Mad Love Series, Part III: Inside the Fire
by KELZTASTiC
Summary: Harley meets an unlikely ally. Continuation of From the Ashes.
1. Inside the Fire

If you have reached Part III before having read Part I and II, please check them out:

.net/s/4460474/1/Mad_Love_Series_Part_I_Burn_Me_Down

.net/s/4840639/1/Mad_Love_Series_Part_II_From_the_Ashes

**Mad Love Series, Part III: Inside the Fire**

Prologue:

You may think you've defeated me

But you're dead wrong

Don't you dare believe what you see

I will pick myself up from the debris

And put myself at risk again

I will be stronger than before

I won't let you break me down

I won't let you stop me from achieving my dreams

You may think I'm gone

But you're dead wrong

I have got my allies and I have got my enemies

You'll be so sorry that you did this to me

You thought you could kill me

Underestimating your opponent is your demise

I've got poison on my side

And I've got the night.

You'll never see the light again

I'll see to it.

You may think I'm weak

But you're dead wrong

I'm stronger than you'll ever be

I'll never forgive you

You thought you killed me

You sick son of a bitch.

I will be back for you.

And I'm going to see to it that you're dead.

You'll meet the cold steel of my bullet

You can taste the flames of hell

And throw yourself **inside the fire**

Because I'm here to live, and I'm here to stay

Chapter 1: Inside the Fire

_Give your soul to me for eternity_

_Release your life to begin another time with her_

_End your grief with me_

_There's another way_

_Release your life; take your place inside the fire with her_

"_Inside the Fire," Disturbed_

My heart beat is slow. My breathing is shallow. My thoughts…are slowing…down…and down…I am dying. I suppose I know now. I know now…that it has to end…

I knew…it would come to this…

My lungs were collapsing.

Dizziness is consuming me.

What…is…hap…?

…

Light; there's a light above me.

The sun; I can see the sun.

There is a voice speaking to me.

I don't recognize it.

"I'm going to get you out, honey, hang on." The voice is saying. It is a woman.

Once my eyes have adjusted to the light, I see the bright red of her hair, vibrant against the beautiful colors of the sunset sky.

"Oh, you're alive, thank God." She looked relieved, "Do you need help getting up?"

"Who…" I was too weak to speak.

"Don't ask questions right now, honey. I am going to help you." She was kicking and shoving away the debris from my body, "Do you think anything is broken?"

I shook my head, the smallest gesture I could make.

"That's good, just hang on…" she was a beautiful woman; sun-kissed, long red hair, almond-shaped emerald eyes, and pouting lips. Her curvy body was dressed elegantly in a forest green halter gown, and it, of course, hugged her in all the right places. She looked as if she just came from (or was going to) some kind of fancy benefit.

"Ok, just one more minute…" she said, voice strained, hauling stones and pieces of plaster.

"Alright," she said to herself, "I think I can get you out of here now."

"I…" I tried to speak, but coughed violently because of all the dust.

"Hang on a minute, sugar, I'm going to need all the strength you can give me." The woman grabbed onto my arm, and my body limply fell out of the pile.

She clapped her hands together in joy, "Yes! Alright, now that that's done…" She surveyed my dirty, ripped costume, "We're going to have to get you a new outfit."

"You…know who I am?" I coughed again, voice weak.

"Of course, all of us villains know about each other," she laughed as if it were obvious, "Competition keeps us on our toes."

"Villain?" I asked.

"Ah well, I will explain that later." She said dismissively, picking me up, "Goodness, you are light as a feather!"

"I haven't eaten much recently," I explained, feeling the hungry pinch in my stomach.

"Well, that's going to change." She put my arm around her shoulder, "My car is parked around the corner. I'll take you back to my place."

"Aren't you…going somewhere?" I was fading fast.

"Yeah, well, I was going to crash a party, but that can wait." She smiled, "And my name is Pamela Isley, but you probably know me better as Poison Ivy."

"Oh…" I said quietly, "I saw you on the news."

"I look so damn fat." She made a face, "They always pick the worst angle."

"You're just…curvy," I tried to make a smile, and I'm still not sure if it worked.

"Well, thank you, Miss Quinzel," she beamed, "Or should I call you Harley?"

"Harley…is fine," We made it to the car, which was, fittingly, green and sleek. It reminded me of my beautiful red Ferrari that the Joker misplaced. My heart felt it like it had been stabbed with a blunt knife. Oh yes, that motherfucker who thought he could kill me. He was on my list. I had been so close…ugh; I was getting tired just thinking about it.

"Are you ok?" Pamela's voice broke me from my inner monologue. She was putting me into the passenger seat of the car, and buckling my seatbelt.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I cringed, feeling the pressure of the belt against my chest. I wondered vaguely if I had broken any ribs. Being the daughter of a doctor will do that to you…

"Oh, you poor thing," She bit her lip, "I'd better hurry."

She got in the driver's seat, and sped off. The sky was darkening rapidly as we drove through the city. I was reminded of when the Joker and I had spent our nights this way. I shook my head, trying to push those nagging thoughts away. Ass-hole tried to off me. Well, he was in for a real fucking big surprise the next time I saw him.

I drifted off to sleep, and was wakened what seemed like a few moments later by Pamela gently rubbing my arm, "Harley, we're at my place. Do you need help getting out?"

"I think so," I said, attempting to sit up, and then biting my lip because the pain wouldn't allow me any further.

"I'll be right there." She said, and I heard her car door slam, and mine opened a minute later. She held out her arm, "Grab on."

I nodded, and took her hand. She pulled me upright, and slung my arm over her shoulder, "You're in bad shape, honey." She closed my car door, and I heard the clicking sound of the car locking. She fished for her keys in her purse, which was considerably harder because I was hanging my weakening body off of her other arm.

I looked up at the building in front of me. It looked like a hotel.

"You live here?" I asked.

"For the time being, yes," She smiled, "I move around a lot."

"You have enough money for that?"

"My parents were pretty wealthy. They died a few years ago, pretty tragic, I guess. Anyway, they left me a substantially large trust fund." We were in the lobby now.

A few people stared at us, and Pamela grinned spectacularly and said, "She's just had a little too much fun tonight."

Let's equate my pain to being drunk. Good plan.

Apparently, they bought it, though; they left looking more relaxed.

"You're a quick thinker." I remarked.

"Comes with the territory of being a feared villainess," she laughed as we went into the elevator. She pressed the button for the top floor of the building.

"Penthouse suite," I said. I suddenly missed my place. It wasn't like I could ever go back there again, especially with the police still after me.

"Of course, only the best for me," Pamela said proudly.

"I lived in one. My parents' actually," I said, "They died 8 months ago."

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" she looked down at me with complete sympathy, "As I mentioned, mine are gone, too. It's rough."

"Yeah, you aren't kidding," I smiled weakly.

"Were you guys close?"

"Near the end, yes, but throughout my teenage years and early 20's, no, not really. I did everything I could to get away from them." I sighed.

The elevator doors opened, and we stepped out.

She pulled out her key. Penthouse A. The same one I had lived in before.

"Why didn't get you along?" she inquired, pushing the door open with her high-heeled foot.

"Eh, it seems so stupid now…my parents were wealthy, too, a doctor and a lawyer. My dad came from old money, actually…"

She set me down on the couch, "Would you like something to drink?"

"Water would be wonderful." I said, suddenly feeling an intense thirst in my throat.

"I'm on it." She went into the kitchen.

It was not the same set-up as my penthouse, but it was still reminiscent of it. The kitchen was on the opposite side (mine had been on the left of the living room, hers was on the right), and there was a bathroom closer than mine had been. The décor was obviously different. It was a little too luxurious for my taste, but I tended to be simple colors rather than patterns, like the hotel seemed to overindulge on.

"I know it's not perfect, but it is home for now." Pamela said, noting my surveying eyes. She handed me a glass of water.

I chugged it, and put the empty glass down on the table.

She stared at it for a moment, "Would you like another?"

"No, that was perfect. Thank you." I settled into the couch.

"You were saying?" she leaned against the pillows.

"Oh…yes, my parents…" I said softly, "Well, I always felt like they expected so much out of me, considering their backgrounds. I was kind of an awkward girl for a long time, insecure; I had braces and everything." I cringed at the memory, "I didn't date much, and I wasn't athletic. I was smart, but I wasn't brilliant. They always seemed disappointed."

"I get the feeling." She said, somewhat bitterly.

"When my younger sister was born, I guess they got the golden child they always wanted. She was gorgeous from birth on, really smart, a fantastic tennis and volleyball player…I just resented her. She was popular with girls and boys, and was always going out and having fun. I was always stuck in my room with my books. When I went to NYU, it was the greatest thing that could have ever happened to me. I met people like me. I got a boyfriend. I supported myself all through undergrad because my parents refused to let me rely on them." I said, my eyes narrowing instinctively, "I guess, in retrospect, they wanted me to understand what working was like, and I don't regret it now. It just really sucked at the time."

"My parents weren't that bad," Pamela admitted, "I was an only child. They spoiled me rotten, but I thought they always wanted something more from me. I was a straight A student, I had friends – not very many, but I had them – I was pretty enough, I could play piano…but it seemed like none of it was enough. Maybe they were upset about not having any more children, I guess."

"Why didn't they?"

"Complications from my birth," she explained shortly, "I think that might have been the thorn in my side, so to speak."

"Did you grow up around here?"

"No, Seattle. My father was a corporate mogul, and my mother was pretty much just a trophy wife." She laughed.

"Oh, come on," I laughed with her.

"Ok, well, she was a model at one time. She had her share of money to bring to the table. I don't know; she was just the typical housewife. She did nothing, and expected to get everything from it. She didn't cook or clean; she just sat by the indoor pool all day."

"I never really saw my mom." I said, shrugging, "She worked a lot. She still did up until she died."

"And your sister…where is she?" Pamela asked.

My face obviously fell, because she bit her lip, "Something bad happened to her."

"She died, too." I stared down at my hands, which was still covered with soot.

"I'm sorry," she put a hand on my shoulder.

"It's alright. It's been over a year now." I said dismissively, "May I use your shower?"

"Of course, take as long as you need," she helped me up, and into the bathroom.

"I've got it from here." I said, when she still stood there, staring at me.

"Oh, ok," she smiled, and closed the door.

I took off my costume, and left it in a pile at my feet. There was an imprint of dust where my mask had been, like it had been etched onto my face forever. I stared at myself, and then wiped at it fiercely, tears falling down my face.

I put my hands on the counter, breathing heavily.

This is what he did to me.

I gripped the counter tightly, looking up at myself, a sad, dirty shell of a girl.

I knew at that moment that I was never going to escape being Harley Quinn.

And I was never going to escape him.

He was going to die.

I mean it this time.


	2. Cut Through Her Heart

**A/N: This chapter is a little more light-hearted than the first. Enjoy, faithful readers. I appreciate every amount of feedback you can give me.  
I don't own DC Comics affiliated characters, yadda yadda, but I do have artistic license. **

Chapter 2: Cut through Her Heart

_Nobody told her she'd lose in the first round_

_The last fight was fixed from the start_

_Names on her sidewalks, they move through her body_

_Like razors, they cut through her heart_

"_Holly Wood Died," Yellowcard_

After taking a shower, Pamela showed me into her second bedroom. She had put a nightgown on the bed, slippers, and a toothbrush with tooth paste included.

"I figured you wanted to rest." She said, "I have some to wreak some mayhem, which I am…" She glanced at her watch, "…about an hour late for. So, please make yourself comfortable, and I will see you in the morning. I'll make some pancakes."

"That sounds great, thank you." I was overwhelmed, "I don't know what to say…why are you being so nice to me?"

"I've got my reasons." She said, eyes sliding away from mine.

I knew then not to ask any more questions.

"Sorry for making you late," I said quietly.

"It's totally ok." She grabbed my hand, "As long as you're feeling better. Let me know if you're in any pain. I'll leave the hotel doctor's number next to your bed in case there's an emergency."

"Thanks so much," I smiled.

"Alright, well, I'm heading out." I followed her into the living room, and she went to the door, "Have a good night."

"You, too," I waved, and she returned the gesture.

As the door closed and the room was left in silence, I looked around me, not exactly knowing what I should do now. I suppose I should get dressed. I threw on the nightgown, combed my hair, and then brushed my teeth, which killed about 15 minutes.

I padded in the mint green slippers into the living room, and sat down on the couch. It was around 8:30 PM. Too early to sleep. I turned on the flat-screen TV and flipped channels until something on the news caught my attention.

"A warehouse belonging to billionaire Bruce Wayne was blown up a few hours ago. Gloria Stein is reporting the scene. Gloria?" the news anchor was saying. The screen cut to the correspondent, who was standing where I had been buried not 2 hours ago.

"Thanks, Tom. It is believed that the Batman was hiding the notorious henchwoman to the Joker, Harley Quinn, here at this warehouse. The Batman fought off at least 8 armed policemen who tried to arrest Harley Quinn, and according to the security cameras in the house, the Joker got to him. It appears as if the Joker had set the bombs in the warehouse to kill the both of them, and the Batman got away, as did the Joker. No signs of Harley Quinn are around, except for this scrap of her red-and-black jester costume left under this pile of rubble here."

She held up a piece of the arm from my costume, "Bruce Wayne could not be reached for comment. He apparently checked into Gotham General Hospital a few minutes ago, complaining of a broken arm and a few broken ribs. Allegedly, he fell down the stairs in an attempt to get away from the Joker. Doctors say he is stable and will recover in a few days time. In the meanwhile, police are still on the hunt for a possibly injured Harley Quinn and her boss, the Joker…"

I quickly switched the channel, feeling self-conscious. I felt an immense relief that Bruce was ok, and that no one suspected that he was the Batman still. It was such a close call. It was smart of him to check into the hospital that late so that it didn't appear suspicious. On the other hand, the police didn't think I was dead; this was a major set-back on my part. If they had believed I was dead, I could have walked freely. But now…I was stuck in hiding.

My eyes welled up with tears. I was a prisoner again. I wiped at my eyes, scolding myself inwardly for crying about this. I had to toughen up if I wanted to make it through all of this.

I considered my options. Without a doubt, I had to kill the Joker. That was the top priority. If I accomplished that, I could get away from here, disappear…start over. Or, they could commend me as a hero, and I could be myself again. I could be with Bruce. We could get married. I wasn't expecting him to drop everything he had made for himself here and run away with me. That just wasn't plausible for him. I was the criminal on the run, not him. They didn't know his identity.

Either way, it meant me getting the fuck out of here.

I hoped Pamela was going to be willing to help me, otherwise…why did she save me? That question had been on my mind since I saw her. Maybe she just wanted to help another woman in the crime industry. Maybe she wanted a chance to get at the Joker. That seemed more probable in this case. She must have something to talk to him about.

Well, talking to her might help instead of playing the 'what if' game in my head.

I sighed, resting my head against the pillows of the couch. Why did I have to have feelings? Really, if I hadn't been so fucking stupid and gotten involved with a patient (of course, the number 1 no-no of the psychological world), I would SO not be here right now. I would be a successful psychiatrist with her own practice and hopefully a nice, rich boyfriend. I would have a sister. I would have parents. I wouldn't have a criminal record. I wouldn't be here.

I can't keep dwelling on all of this. It was going to make me sick.

I had to see Bruce. That much was clear at this point. But how was I going to do it? I wasn't in any shape really to go on some sort of dangerous mission, and on the other hand, I wasn't exactly just a face in the crowd anymore. I had to be sneaky about this. Pamela would help me; I was sure of that. I still wasn't sure of her agenda, but I would have to trust her for now.

I looked at the clock. It was near 10 PM. I wasn't that tired, but I was really craving getting into a comfortable bed and relaxing.

I stood up, somewhat shakily. My ribs still hurt from the impact of the debris. I would have to get some help if they didn't feel better in a few days.

I crossed the threshold into the bedroom, and closed the door behind me. I kicked off the slippers next to the bed, and climbed under the soft covers. It felt like a hotel in here, for sure, but I would have to deal with it. It felt like this when I had slept in the penthouse, too. I missed that place. I wondered what was going on there…it was probably a wreck from the police running through it. God knows what they could have found in there…I am going to try not to think about the stash of condoms I had in my bedside drawer. I suppose that was the least of my worries, though.

The fact is; I'm safe for the time being. I had shelter and someone that was going to take care of me. I was being selfish. At least I'm fucking alive!

I tossed and turned in the bed for countless minutes, and finally fell asleep, I think around 2 AM. It was a relatively peaceful sleep, and I was awakened by bright sunlight streaming through the thin beige curtains in the room. I glanced at the clock wearily. 8:30 in the morning…MEH. No thank you sir.

I buried myself in the covers, fervently attempting to fall back asleep.

It didn't work.

I stiffly got up from the bed, feeling my bones cracking as I stood. The pathetic thing is that I'm only 28. Good Lord, I'm on the sad side of 30. That's as depressing as it gets for me.

I shook my head, trying to banish the nagging, stupid thoughts from my mind. I stumbled into the lit living room, and noticed Pamela in the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets.

She must have had super-sensitive hearing, because she immediately turned around, "Good morning, Harley! I wasn't expecting you up this early!"

She reminded me of a stereotypical 50's housewife, in her mint green wrap dress and pink apron, holding a bowl in her hand. I wondered how old she was; she couldn't have been much more than a couple years my senior…I had a lot of questions for her.

"You look pensive." She remarked, "Do you want some cereal?"

"Yes, please, with 2 percent milk if you have it." I was very specific about my milk.

"What other milk is there?" Pamela laughed, opening the fridge.

I liked her already.

I sat down at the kitchen table as she put together the cereal for me.

"Aren't you going to have anything?" I asked as she put it in front of me.

"Yeah, I have bread in the toaster." She said, and like clockwork, it popped up.

She made herself an egg and bacon sandwich, and sat down next to me, pouring herself a glass of milk as well, "How did you sleep?"

"Eh, could have been better," I said, swallowing my cereal, "But it was nice to sleep. I've been something of an insomniac lately."

"Why?"

"Well, with my parents dying and my sister's murder…I had a lot keeping me up at night." I explained, "Once I started dating Bruce, it…"

She looked slightly startled, interjecting, "Bruce? As in Bruce Wayne, the billionaire?"

"Yeah," I flushed.

"You two are…exclusive?" her eyes with wide with interest.

"Yes, but that was a recent development. I miss him right now." I sighed, pushing the cereal around in the bowl dejectedly.

"Where is he?"

"In the hospital; fell down the stairs during the break-in by the Joker and the police last night," I said, biting my lip, "The news said he was ok, but I wanted to see him myself."

"Is that why the Joker broke in? He was pissed off that the two of you were dating?" Pamela scooted her chair closer to mine.

"Well, yes, you could say that. He intended to kill me. I survived, obviously." I exhaled deeply, "I was happy that Bruce made it out alright. I would have been devastated if something happened to him. We're both very lucky that we made it out alive."

"And where is the Joker now?"

"I have no idea. He disappeared. He left me there after the place collapsed. I take it he's hiding out somewhere, patching up his wounds. I shot him." I said, trying not to look too proud of that fact.

"Wow, you're hardcore, Harley." She grinned, "I hadn't pegged you for the vengeful type."

"Oh, once you've been through what I have been through, vengeance is what you live for." I scoffed.

"Amen to that," she tapped her glass to mine.

"If you don't mind me asking…what happened to you? What made you become a villainess?" I couldn't help myself. I was inquisitive (psychologist's curse).

"Let's retreat to the living room for this long, tragic tale," she smiled, a bit forlorn.

Once we had settled on the couch, Pamela looked away for a moment, "Where do I begin with my life? I was born and grew up in Seattle; my parents were emotionally distant, mostly because I was the only child. I learned how to be independent at a young age because they were never around; I was a smart kid. Everyone knew that. Every teacher I had said I was brilliant. What interested me the most was science, botany in particular…I tended my own garden at home; I grew roses, tulips, hydrangeas…it was so beautiful. I spent hours there, just feeling the energy of the plants."

She looked over at me, and I nodded for her to continue.

"When it came time for college, I knew exactly what I wanted to do and where. I was going to go to Harvard, far away from my parents, and I was going to study biology, specializing in plant life. I was granted early admission, so I left 2 days after high school graduation and did honors internship there over the summer. There, I met Dr. Jason Woodrue. What a man." Her eyes grew a little teary, but she blinked them back, "He was brilliant, and he understood me. He was 30; I was 19, it wasn't that inappropriate for us to have a relationship. No one knew about it, though. I had to keep quiet because he could have lost his job, and that meant more to him than me. I understood that."

She sighed, "Anyway, in my junior year, Jason – er, well, Dr. Woodrue – granted me a special research internship with him. It was a dream come true for me. I could spend hours with him, alone in a lab, working on plants. I couldn't have been happier."

"What went wrong?" I inquired when she paused for a moment.

"I'm getting to that. Jason thought he could take advantage of me. He was injecting me with his formulated toxins and poisons. I was his guinea pig, since the university wouldn't let him use it on test subjects. I stupidly, stupidly, STUPIDLY volunteered, because I was so in love with him. I couldn't deny him anything. I almost died twice. I knew something was wrong with me. My skin was turning green."

It was at that point that I noticed that 'something weird' about her. If you looked somewhat closely, her skin was a sickly green tint. It wasn't obvious at first, but it was there. I couldn't believe I hadn't paid attention to it before; actually, well, I could. I was half alive at the time she found me, and I wasn't exactly in the right mind. Plus, Pamela looked much stronger than me, much healthier. I also guessed that the transformation gave her the penchant for wearing green.

"What did you do?" I was in awe, totally captivated by the story.

"I begged him to stop, told him that something was going wrong. He refused. He performed another experiment on me that day, and I collapsed. He ran out of the room. He left me there on the ground, plants growing out of my palms and feet. I thought I was going to die. I was only 20 years old at the time; I was freaking out. Finally, another professor saw the door open, saw me, and called an ambulance. I spent 6 months in the hospital, the doctors trying so hard to detoxify my body. It was too late at that point." She clenched her fist, "I never saw Jason again. Not a word, a letter, anything. If I ever see that son of a bitch again, I…I don't know what injuries I will inflict on his sorry ass. I may even kill him."

"I don't blame you at all." I touched her shoulder, rubbed it a little, "I know a little something about psychotic men."

She smiled genuinely, "Thanks. Well, after that, I had to drop out of school. I had missed too much to graduate, so I moved into Gotham, settled here, waiting for an opportunity to present itself. There is such a huge crime syndicate here; and I was the only woman around with something to offer. I started with some small felonies, robbery and shit like that. When I realized my full potential, I decided to develop my skills and do some big-scale disturbances, like the Joker. I poisoned the water supply, I used my perfume to ensnare men to do my bidding…I'm on top of the world right now."

I didn't know what to say. I had been forced into a life of crime to save myself. Although, perhaps not. I think I may have asked for it. I didn't know anymore. However, what I knew now was that Pamela was certainly more complex that I had thought her to be. She could prove to be a very influential ally to me and Bruce – er, the Batman.

"I'm happy for you." I said, meaning it, "I wish my life could be more fulfilling."

She looked at me, and her eyes lit up, "You should join me! You would be a great addition to my team! I need more female influence in the group."

"I would, but my costume…" I gestured to the heap of dirty, ripped fabric in the corner of the living room, where I had thrown it last night, "It's kind of in disarray."

"Not a problem," she said dismissively, "I'm great at sewing. I used to construct my own clothes when I was little. I still make some of them. I'll get you something even better. No offense, but it looked like a 4-year-old made that."

I pouted, "I made it."

"Sorry," she said, giggling, "Actually, no, I'm not. Oh, don't sulk. I'll get you fixed up."

I was relieved. I couldn't be mad about that, "Thanks, Pammy."

"Pammy?" she cocked her head, puzzled, "No one's ever called me that."

"Well, I can call you Pamela."

"No, I like Pammy. It's different. It makes me feel human." She smiled widely, showing her perfectly straight white teeth.

"Ok then," I smiled in return. It felt nice and a little strange to have a friend, but I needed one right now. It would be the first female friend (other than my sister) I had had in a very long time, maybe since college.

Maybe this new life could be kind of fun.

…


	3. Everything Inside

**A/N: Hello again. Here's another chapter...a little bit emotional. A lot of the sentiments shared in this chapter are ones I feel for my boyfriend of over 2 and a half years...and it makes me miss him terribly. Sorry for being all weepy.  
Enjoy, R&R, and I don't own DC Comics characters.**

Chapter 3: Everything Inside

_Every single day, I think about how we came all this way_

_The sleepless night and the tears you cried; it's never too late to make it right_

'_Cause everything inside never comes out right_

_And when I see you cry, it makes me want to die_

"_Sorry", Buckcherry _

It was around 2 AM, one week from that conversation. I was dressed all in black, lurking outside the newly re-constructed Gotham General Hospital. It was much creepier at night, the curved architecture disconcerting in the dark. It was pitch black; the windows had the blinds drawn, and no light escaped from the building. I looked up, counting the floor. Floor 6 held my boyfriend, Bruce Wayne. I had managed to acquiesce that much from the conversation that two exiting nurses had.

"Are you going in or are you just going to wait out here all night?" Pam hissed from behind me.

She was dressed in a similar fashion, but while my outfit consisted of sweats, hers was a chic leather ensemble.

"I'm getting there. This isn't as easy as it looks." I snapped in response.

"Just follow my lead." She said, pushing past me. She moved to a spot outside an emergency exit door, glancing around for any passerby. After assessing the situation, she pulled out a little metal device. I couldn't tell what it was; it just glinted in the moonlight, revealing its substance. She picked the lock, and reached inside to silence the alarm. She was experienced in this, clearly.

After the door had opened, Pamela looked over at me, "There you go, dummy."

"Shut up," I said irritably.

The two of us slipped inside quietly, and closed the door behind us carefully. We were in a darkened hallway on the first floor.

"We need to get to an elevator." I said.

"Why? We're bound to get noticed that way. We need to find the stairs. Those are usually hidden." She rolled her eyes. I must have seemed like a child to her, one that she seemed to find the need to prove wrong every chance she got.

We moved along the hallway, me behind her.

She glanced in each room, shaking her head, muttering something.

"What's up with you?" I asked.

"I'm trying to find the nurse's station."

"Why?"

"So we can get uniforms. We can walk around without any question, then." She said, and her eyes lit up when she located a storage room, "This will do."

She pulled on the door. It was locked, of course.

She sighed, and rummaged through her pocket for the little metal device again. She quickly picked the lock, and we went inside. Wordlessly, we grabbed some spare scrubs off the wall, and stripped down. I got dressed as fast as I could; for some reason, I could feel Pam's eyes on me. It was a strange sensation, sort of like a premonition. I tried to shake my sense of dread away; I only felt like this when I knew something particularly unfortunate was going to happen.

"What's wrong?" Pam interrupted my thoughts.

"Nothing," I lied.

"Oh, you just had a weird look on your face."

"It smells odd in here, that's all."

She seemed to buy that, "Yeah, it's probably the antiseptic."

"Yeah, that's probably it." I agreed for the sake of wanting to stop the conversation.

"Let's roll," she said.

I nodded.

We left the room as inaudibly as we had come, and pressed ourselves to the walls of the corridor, moving silently. After a few minutes, we found a staircase, and thankfully the door was open for once. Why did these places have to make it so hard for us to break in?

We climbed the six flights, Pamela more swiftly than me, because I am clearly out of shape and because of the condition of my ribs. They had been healing up pretty nicely, but they still ached every now and then, and this definitely wasn't doing them any good at all.

When we reached the sixth floor, I moved to open the door, but Pam held me back. I opened my mouth to protest, but she made a 'shh' gesture, and glanced out the small window into the hallway. A nurse was walking in and out of the rooms.

"Oh," I breathed.

"You have a lot to learn." She said sternly.

I shot her a dirty look. She had already turned her attention back to the hallway. Once the nurse stepped into the elevator, we moved down the hallway, looking for Bruce's room.

Pamela found it first. She just stopped dead, and pointed. I stepped around her, and opened the door to the hospital room.

"I'll wait out here." Pam said quietly.

"Are you sure?"

"I can handle myself, Harley." She smiled.

I believed her, "Ok."

I closed the door behind me. Bruce was in the room alone, and he was sleeping soundly on his bed. His arm was in a sling and his chest was wrapped up, but he seemed to be alright. His breathing was deep, as someone's usually is when they're asleep. I felt bad to have to wake him up, but somehow I think he wasn't going to mind.

I sat down next to him on the bed, and softly stroked his thick, dark hair.

He opened his eyes groggily, "What…?"

"Hi, Bruce," I smiled.

He looked more awake then, ecstatic, "Harley, oh my God! Is it really you?"

"Yeah, it's me. You're not dreaming, I promise. I can pinch you if you want." I teased.

He moved to embrace me, but I helped him out by putting my arms around him tightly, "Harley, I thought you were dead."

"Well, clearly I'm not."

"Don't be so glib about this." He said shortly, stroking my back with his free arm, "How did you survive the explosion?"

"Someone pulled me out." I said.

"Who?"

"Um…Poison Ivy," I replied hesitantly.

"As in…that green woman…the one I fight on a regular basis?" Bruce was obviously surprised.

"Yes, that woman," I said, pulling back, "Her name is Pamela, by the way, and she saved my life. I've been living with her for the past week."

"Are you sure that's safe?"

"I'm alive and well, aren't I?"

"Yes," he admitted, "but…why would she save you?"

"I'm still trying to figure that out myself." I mused.

"I'm happy that you're alive, believe me," he said, kissing my hand, "I've been lying here all day wondering…regretting my decision to get out of that place, not to save you. It's been on my mind, and I couldn't shake it. I just wanted to see your face again, see that beautiful smile, but I was trying to face the fact that I never would again."

I felt tears well up in my eyes, "Oh, Bruce…"

"Please don't cry," he said, shaking his head, "I don't want you to cry over me. At least we're both here. We're both alive."

"But he escaped," I bit my lip.

"We'll bring him down." Bruce said stoutly.

"I know we will. He is weakened; I did shoot him in the shoulder, and it is pretty damn unlikely that he is going to seek any medical attention for that injury, which means that he is going to get some hack to try to do a mend on it. He is not going to be in the shape he was in before. That's an advantage we have over him now." I grinned, "We could win this time, Bruce."

"We will win." He said firmly.

I kissed him on the lips, "I can't stay long. I risked a lot coming here to see you. Pamela can't stand guard for too long without looking suspicious."

"I understand," he said, sighing, "Will you come back?"

"I'm not sure." I said truthfully, "I will watch the news and find out when you're back in the mansion. Don't try to contact me. I will find you. I promise, Bruce."

"We're going to be together again, right?"

"You still want me to be with you?" Now I was the one surprised. I had come here expecting Bruce to let me go. I didn't want him to, but I would have understood the reasoning behind it.

"Yes, I picked you for a reason, and I'm sticking with my decision." He said, grabbing my hand and holding onto it securely, "We're going to clear your name and I'm going to marry you someday. Hold me to that promise, Harley. I'm going to put a ring on your finger, and we're going to have a beautiful wedding and have children running around our yard. We're going to have dogs, too, even though I'm not sure I really like dogs…but that's not the point…but still, we're going to raise the kids right and send them to Princeton –not Harvard…"

"What's wrong with Harvard?" I laughed.

"No Harvard," he said firmly, "And they're going to be successful and we can rest easy, Harley. We'll have that huge house to ourselves and make love all day long if we want to."

"I…" he held up a hand to silence me.

"I'm not done. We're going to grow old together and talk loudly to each other when our hearing aids go out, and I'm going to die in your arms, because that's exactly where I want to be when I go, Harley. We're going to be happy. Don't let me let you down. I'm begging you not to let that happen."

Tears were falling down my face now, "I won't let that happen."

"Oh, fuck, you're crying."

"They're happy tears." I managed to crack a smile.

"That's what I wanted to tell you. When I thought you were dead, I regretted never saying any of that to you. You and I surviving means that we will have a future. We got a second chance at this life." He glanced at the door, "Your friend is signaling you."

I looked up. Pamela appeared to be anxious, gesturing that it was time to go.

"I guess I'm going to go now." I said reluctantly.

"I understand." He embraced me one more time, "I will see you soon."

"Ok." I stood up, "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Bye," I moved toward the door.

"Bye," he called as I opened the door.

"Bye," I whispered again as I left.

I wiped the tears from my eyes, and Pamela was taken aback, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I'm actually just fine." I said, smiling weakly.

"Let's get out of here. This doctor passed me a couple times, giving me a weird look." She explained as we headed for the stairs.

"Sorry for taking so long," I began to apologize.

She interjected, "I get it. You needed time with him. I waited as long as I could to take you away. I get it, Harley, you love the guy. I can see it in your eyes; I saw it in his eyes. What I wouldn't give…"

I said nothing, waited for her to finish.

"Never mind," she said finally.

"Alright," I didn't want to pressure her any further about the topic. I knew it was sore spot for her, the whole love thing.

"I'm fine," she said. I don't know if she was trying to reassure me, or herself.

"Let's go home," I put a hand on her shoulder.

She smiled at me, "I think we need a chick flick tonight."

"I whole-heartedly agree."


	4. Another Packaged Lie

**A/N: Oh, um...I didn't realize how long I've been gone. Sorry, life happens. Started my second semester at college and just getting life together. Hopefully should crank out another chapter in a couple of weeks. Please be patient, dear readers.**

**I don't own these characters, yadda yadda yadda.**

Chapter 4: Another Packaged Lie

_Another promise, another seed_

_Another packaged lie to keep us trapped in greed_

_And all the green belts wrapped around our minds_

_And endless red tape to keep the truth confined_

"_Uprising," Muse _

It had been 3 weeks since I had visited Bruce in the hospital. According to my vigilant watch of Gotham news, he was released and seemed to be recovering well. They had interviewed him upon his release. I couldn't help but smile at the man I knew and loved so well.

The reporters had clamored around him, shouting their questions, "Mr. Wayne, Mr. Wayne, can you comment on your health? What about your mansion? Do you feel safe in your home? What about your relationship with Dr. Harleen Quinzel, who was recently discovered to be the notorious Harley Quinn?"

Notorious, huh? I kind of like the sound of that.

Bruce turned his head sharply to the reporter, "My relationship with Harleen Quinzel will not be discussed at this time."

"Do you know where she is? Have you seen her?" the reporter persisted.

"No, I haven't. I had been told that she died in the crash. If she is alive, she must be miles away by now." Bruce said, shrugging.

"Were you upset when you discovered that she was a criminal, Mr. Wayne?" the reporter cried out as Alfred was escorting Bruce to his limousine.

Bruce paused, and faced the reporter, "No more upset than I will be after doing this."

Bruce then proceeded to punch the reporter right in the face, knocking him to the ground. I gasped in my seat in Pamela's living room. I saw the look of shock on Alfred's face, but he regained composure and pulled Bruce into the limousine. It sped away from the scene with the flashing of multitudes of cameras.

When the scene cut back to the newsroom, the anchorwoman was silent for a moment, trying to think of something to say, "Well…clearly the topic of his relationship with Dr. Harleen Quinzel, a.k.a. Harley Quinn, is still a little bit of a sore spot. Gotham residents were surprised today by the 2 inches of rain…" She moved on to another story.

I turned the television off, and stared at the blank screen. That had been so good of Bruce not to mention our meeting. It proved to me that he still loved me just as much as he said he did. And I had to admit…punching that ass in the face was pretty fucking amazing…and hot as hell.

Pamela was in the kitchen, cutting up some pieces of cheesecake for us. She poked her head out of the kitchen entryway, "What happened? I heard screaming sounds."

"Ah, just the news," I said, standing up, "Bruce punched a guy in the face for my honor."

"Oh, I see." Pamela always looked so sour when I talked about Bruce. I guess I did talk about him a lot more than was necessary…and she kind of really hated the masculine part of our species with a passion. She told me repeatedly that she was done with men.

"Come on, Pammy," I wheedled her as she put the plate down in front of me, "You're going to have to deal with Bruce if we're going to be friends."

She sat down, her forest-green leather skirt crinkling as she did, "Yeah, I get it, Harley." She stabbed her cheesecake with the fork, crushing the cherry on top into the mix. Its red juice flowed down the sides, like an ironic representation of what I assumed she wanted to do to Bruce.

"Why are you so pissed off?" I asked shortly, taking a bite of my own cheesecake.

"It's not that I don't approve of him, Harley, but it's been 3 weeks and he hasn't made any contact with you." She sighed.

"Yeah, well, if you would just let me to go to his manor, the separation would end. But you keep saying it's too 'dangerous.'" I mimicked her sultry voice.

"Don't make fun of me," she snapped, "If the police see you, we're both done for, and you know that, idiot."

"Well, don't call me an idiot." I retorted, "I bet Bruce is worried sick about me and wants to see me one of these days, but you won't let me. You're not my god damn mother."

"Last time I checked, neither of us have one of those!" she stood up. The table shook and her plate shattered on the floor, "Now what the fuck is this?!"

"Oh, get over it. It's just a plate." I said, helping her clean up the debris, "You're on edge all the time, Pammy. What's your problem?"

"My problem is that you're wasting your time on that playboy Bruce Wayne when you could be…!" she stopped dead in mid-thought.

"When I could be what?" I looked up at her.

"When you could be…helping me with my endeavors." She said softly.

"Yeah, well, see, I'd like to help, but…you won't let me leave this place. So, unless you want to get over yourself and stop being so overprotective, I'd be happy to help you out." I said.

She was quiet for a minute, and then finally said, "Fine, I have something you could assist me with tonight. But you need to stay close by and listen to my every word."

I rolled my eyes, "Alright."

"You're a sassy little bitch sometimes." She said, throwing out the remains of her plate into the garbage can in the kitchen.

"I've been told." I said, standing up.

"I need to get ready." She stomped out of the kitchen – er, well, as effectively as you can stomp in fuzzy pink slippers – and into her bedroom.

"Don't be like that, Pammy!" I called after her.

"I'll talk to you when I feel like it!" she yelled back, and I winced as the door to her room slammed loudly.

Who stuck the pole up her ass?

I cleaned up the rest of her mess, and dumped it into the trash can in the kitchen. I washed the dishes left in the sink, and then sat on the couch, reading one of the magazines on the coffee table. Not that I much cared for the secret life of Jude Law, but it would work for the time being.

Pamela didn't come back for about an hour. Finally, the familiar sound of her clacking high heels against the marble resounded down the hallway and into the living room.

"Ah, I see Medusa has emerged from her cave." I remarked, not looking up from my magazine.

"I would turn you to stone if I could." She glared at me.

"Yeah, well, you can't so I guess you're stuck with me." I folded the magazine, and put it back on the table. I stood up, stretching my arms, "You ready to act like a normal person again?"

Her lip curled, "I was acting normal."

"Yeah, throwing plates around is real normal."

"Sure," I drawled.

"Let's just go." She snapped.

She had long since sewn me a new costume. I was pretty satisfied with the outcome. It was a much more durable material and you couldn't even see the stitch lines, unlike my oh-so-home-ec handiwork. The torso was half black and half red, and the left leg was red with little black diamond patterns, while the other was just plain black. She had sewn white lace onto the edges of the sleeves and a ruff of the same material around the neck. She had bought me another pair of leather ankle boots with a very pointed toe. To top it off, she had re-sewn together my jester cap in the same red-and-black fashion, and attached bells at the ends.

I thought the bells were a little much, but I was going to have to deal with it. I already had a plan to pull them out and tell her it was an accident.

We headed out of the penthouse apartment, and out onto the fire escape. I inhaled sharply; 25 flights of stairs are very, VERY high up.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee…" I muttered under my breath.

"Shut up, Harley," Pamela rolled her eyes, "You're going to be fine."

"I don't like heights." I whined.

"Villainesses don't whine."

"Well, I do," I snapped.

…

We made our way down the fire escape and Pamela jumped the 3 feet to the ground, landing perfectly, even in high heels. She had the grace of a cat.

"I'm really jealous of you." I said, face dead-pan.

She chuckled, and looked up at me, "Get down."

"Give me a minute," I said, surveying the ground beneath me.

"It's 3 feet, Harley."

"That means nothing to me."

"I will pull you down if I have to." She raised an eyebrow.

I prepared myself, and stepped off the fire escape, landing in a pretty bad heap of tangled arms and legs on the ground.

Pamela helped me up, "We'll work on that."

I rubbed my bruised ass, "Yeah, let's do that."

…

We walked down the sidewalk, staying close the walls of any buildings we passed. It was 2:30 in the morning, after all, and two women in costumes would be slightly suspicious…unless they thought we were prostitutes. Well, Pam's costume might suggest such a notion, but mine, not so much.

I hadn't been outside at all since my injury, and it was nice to take in a breath of fresh air for once. I had always loved this city…the nice parts, at least. The moon was shining bright above us, casting an eerie glow over us.

Pamela was silent as we walked; looking rather pensive, or worried…I wasn't sure. She looked preoccupied over something.

"Are you alright, Pammy?" I asked, nudging her in the arm.

She started, obviously broken from her train of thought, "Yeah, fine."

"Alright…you just seem pretty quiet."

"Well, I just feel like being silent."

"Ok, then," I said, exasperated. Sometimes she was a total chatterbox, but sometimes she was like this, quiet and unresponsive. It was like living with a bipolar person.

We kept walking for I don't even know how long, maybe another 15 or 20 minutes or so, when Pamela stopped abruptly.

I turned around, a few paces in front of her, "What's wrong?"

"Stay here," she said firmly, and disappeared into the nearest alley.

Now I was just totally confused. Was there some hidden agenda to this outing? Maybe I was just being paranoid…

"Nice to see that you're alive, Princess," a voice said from behind me.

A chill went through my entire body. I slowly swiveled, my heart racing, "I wish I could say the same, Joker."

"Touché," he sneered, "I see we haven't lost our biting sense of humor."

"Fuck you," I said through gritted teeth.

"And the infamous attitude," he stepped forward into the moonlight. His clothes were becoming increasingly tattered and worn, and some of the fabric had disappeared entirely, causing him to sew mismatched patches over the holes. His hair was dirty, still matted with the green dye, and his face was still covered in that make- up, the scars a brilliant red in the dark. His normally bright eyes didn't have the same light as they had before; he was tired. His right arm was in a sling, the bandages caked in dried blood from the bullet wound.

I guess I had really done a number on him. Go me.

"You're lucky, Princess," he said, circling me, "that my arm is out of commission, because I would be strangling the life out of you right now."

"Oh, I'll bet," I scoffed, "Since you have failed to kill me…I have lost count of how many times now. Admit it, Joker; you can't kill me."

"Of course I can."

"Oh, I know you could, literally," I said, wagging my finger in a chastising motion, "You should be aware of double entendre by now. I meant that you just can't. You wouldn't be able to live with the fact that you terminated the only woman who ever sort of cared about you."

"Ah, so you admit that you cared about me."

"I've already told you how I felt about you. We don't need to reiterate. Let's just get to the point. How did you know I would be here?" I snapped.

"I think Miss Isley can answer that." He gestured toward the alley.

Pamela came out of the alley, looking rather guilty.

"What does he mean, Pamela?" I asked coldly.

"Don't blame me for this, Harley. I am just protecting you." She replied, clearly upset.

"Protecting me from what?"

"I saved your life. I think you have to have realized that I saved you for a reason." She said quietly, arms folded across her chest.

"Well, yeah, I did. What was your reason?" I was getting frustrated with her ambiguity.

"Ask him," she pointed at the Joker.

"No, please, you explain, Miss Isley." The Joker's eyes flashed with ire.

"Just tell me!" I exclaimed, "I fucking hate guessing games!"

"She's not very patient." The Joker remarked.

"Shut the fuck up!" I aimed my insult his way, and turned back on Pam, "Tell me, Pam."

"The Joker paid me to save you." She blurted out.

"What?" I was taken aback; puzzled.

"He called me right after the warehouse was destroyed. He was upset. He was about to lose it; I could tell in his voice. He said that he'd made a huge mistake; that he just wanted to kill the Batman, not you. You just got caught in the crossfire. Of course, he didn't expect you to shoot him." She glanced toward his sling, "He saw you dying, and he couldn't handle it. I owed him a favor, so I did it. I saved you for him."

What…the…fuck?

This shit always seems to happen to me.


	5. Not the Life It Seems

**A/N: Well, guess I was inspired this weekend. R&R Love, love, love to all of you!**

**I don't own DC Comics affiliated characters...as much as I would like to.**

Chapter 5: Not the Life It Seems

_What will it take to show you that it's not the life it seems?_

_I've told you time and time again you sing the words_

_But don't know what it means_

_To be another joke and look, another line without a hook_

"_I'm Not Okay (I Promise)", My Chemical Romance_

"You two…were in this together." I said, pointing back and forth between them, mouth agape in pure disbelief, "This is such bullshit!"

"Harley, I didn't know what else to do!" Pam pleaded, "I didn't want to lie to you, but I owed the Joker a big favor."

"And what was that?" I snapped, eyes boring into her own, "What could you have done that was so incredibly bad that you could have owed this mother-fucker a favor? WHAT?!"

"This isn't the time or the place to talk about that." She said uncomfortably.

I turned back to the Joker, who was smirking all the while, "Wipe that god damn smile off your face before I DO IT FOR YOU!!!" I screamed.

His smile instantly disappeared, "Harley, all I wanted to do was save you."

"Save me from what? Seriously, I don't understand where you're coming from, jack-ass." I stepped forward, poking him hard in the chest, "First you want to kill me, then you want to love me, then you want to blow me to bits, and then you want to save me. PICK ONE."

"You confuse me." The Joker said, shoving me away from him, "There at times where I would think life is so much better off without you in it…but then…then are other times when I can't imagine a world without you. It's so complicated."

"Yeah, well, I will make it simple. I'm staying with Bruce, and there's nothing that you're going to do about it." I said firmly, "Fuck both of you. I'm out of here."

I began to stalk away from the scene, no intentions in my head except to just get away from that miserable pair of human beings.

I made it almost a block and a half before a hand grabbed my shoulder, and I shrugged off harshly, knowing immediately who it was, "I don't want your apologies, Pam."

"Come on, Harley, you know I care about you. You're the only real friend I've ever known." Her voice was tearful, pitiful all at once, "I never wanted to do this to you."

"What, to sell me out to the Joker?" I snarled, "You know how much I hate that man. I would kill him now if I had the chance. I've told you this so many times, Pam."

I turned on my heel, and started to walk away again.

"Being with Bruce is not going to be easy," she remarked.

I halted, and slowly craned my neck around to look at her, "What are you getting at?"

"People are going to find out that he's Batman."

My heart stopped for a moment, and all the blood drained from my face, "Where in the hell did you get that idea?"

"It makes perfect sense." She said, circling me in a vulture-like fashion, "Bruce Wayne was inconspicuously missing from the crime scene, and Batman seemed to escape, according to the security cameras. He was protecting you, watching out for you. I figured Batman had to be a rich man; to have all those weapons and that tank of a car. Their physique is the same, their eyes."

"How would you know that?" I asked, my voice just above a whisper.

"I've been close enough to him to notice." She grinned, "I am a feared villainess, you know."

Bruce never seemed to mention that.

My expression must have been of complete shock, so she leaned in close to me, "Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to tell the Joker. That would just be stupid on my part. I think I'd like to keep you around, and keep you away from the Joker. I can do that, if you're willing to cooperate."

"You're blackmailing me." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Well, if you want it to sound so diabolical, then yes." Pamela's lip curled into the most sinister smile I had ever seen pass through her features. I involuntarily shivered.

"I guess I have no choice, then," I said.

"It appears that way." She said curtly, "You trusted me too much, Harley. Oh, believe me; we're going to be best friends. I'm never going to let you out of my sight. You aren't going to see Bruce Wayne or the Batman, whoever the fuck he is. I won't let the Joker anywhere near away unless he wants to be the wrong end of my gun."

I was silent, powerless to object, speechless at what was happening. This is what I get for trusting anyone. The fact that the Joker wouldn't be able to get to me was an immense relief, but the whole Bruce scenario…well, that wasn't going to fly, I can tell you that much. I would see Bruce if it was the last thing I did on this earth. I was going to marry that man, regardless of who stood in my way. If Pamela thought she was going to hinder my relationship with Bruce, she was dead wrong. And I mean dead in the literal sense, if that wasn't clear.

"Fine," I said, "You win, Pam."

She smiled, "Good. Let's get out of here."

She strode in front of me, hips swinging, obviously pleased with her betrayal.

"Yes, Pam, you win…for now." I muttered under my breath, taking a glance behind me.

The Joker stood in the distance, watching me with hard eyes. I stared back at him, the moment seemingly frozen in time. I remembered when I thought he was going to be my world, and I knew he still thought the same of me.

He will die. I promised this to myself on the dark, bitterly cold night. He was going to see how ruthless his precious little Harley Quinn could be. I was prepared to shoot him, and this time, I wasn't going to miss.

…

Pamela and I headed back to the hotel in complete silence. All I could hear the clacking of her green heels against the pavement, and the sound of my leather suit rubbing together as I walked. I was just in the mood to even begin speaking to her. She had lied to me; made a fucking fool out of me, all for the benefit of the man I hated the most in this world. I glanced up at her, and saw her looking back at me with sad eyes.

"What's your problem?" I asked, breaking the tension-filled silence.

"Nothing, nothing at all," she said, her voice far away, "You are…you are an incredible woman, Harley Quinzel."

"And why is that?" I didn't really want to know, but her comment piqued my interest.

"You are still standing here next to me after I deceived you. You are so strong. I'm jealous of you, in fact. You weren't even scared of the Joker. You just stared him down and made him feel inferior; you didn't let him get the last word. I admire that. I really do. I wish I could stand up to people that easily." She sighed.

"It's taken years of practice." I said shortly, "Thanks for reminding me that I've been walked on my entire life, and that's what this – toughness, I presumably have - is a result of. I had to learn to be this way after I met the Joker, because I never would have survived. He acts like he can't be intimidated, but I know I can get to him. I know him deep down to the core, and it scares him. It scares him that he has feelings. I have that to my advantage, I guess."

"You're a bitch." She said fondly.

"I guess I am." I said, a hint of a smile tugging at my lips, "I have to be one to make it through life now."

"There's nothing wrong with that." She said, putting her arm around my shoulder in a friendly gesture, "It's the way I have to be, too…do you forgive me?"

"Hell no," I shoved her arm away, "You still lied to my face. I'm never going to forget that, and I'm never going to trust you again."

"Well, that's not going to make our rooming situation any easier." She said pensively.

"It's not like I fucking want to be here." I knew it sounded petulant and childish, but I didn't care.

"Harley…" she began, but I was still striding ahead of her toward the hotel.

The rest of the journey remained in silence. I began the long climb back up the fire escape, listening to the sound of Pamela's clacking heels behind me. When we finally reached the top, I pried open the window, and clambered into the apartment, falling ungracefully on my ass yet again.

"You lack basic motor skills, don't you?" Pamela asked, a smirk playing at her lips.

"I'm very sensitive about it, yes." I retorted.

"Walking in uncomfortable shoes takes practice," she said, helping me up.

"I see that is something you've mastered." I remarked, brushing myself off, "I'm going to bed. Don't wake me up until I wake myself up, got it?"

"Yeah, I understand."

I stalked down the hallway, and slammed the door to illustrate my point.

I peeled the costume off of me, leaving it in a pile on the floor. I pulled on sweatpants and a camisole and climbed into bed, staring up angrily at the ceiling…as if the tiles had anything to do with the emotions I was facing currently.

This shit was ridiculous. No one even knew how much I wish I could turn back the clock and go back to the day when my boss at Arkham assigned me the Joker. I wished I could have had the strength to say no and to back down. Of course not; I had to be stubborn bitch Harley. I had to take on a challenge I knew I would never understand.

I let that man get to me, just like I'd let every other man in my life affect me. Except for Bruce; Bruce was different. He was a good man, the kind I should end up with.

I was feeling tired. My eyelids were drooping. I turned on my side, and stared at the wall, trying to make myself fall asleep faster, to end this day forever.

Tap. Tap.

I shot up in my bed. It was coming from the window. I slowly got up, hugging my arms around my chest to hide the effect cold on a specific part of a woman's anatomy. One would normally be scared of a stranger tapping on their window, but you know what…I'm not normal.

To my complete delight, it was a very familiar face. The Batman – er, well, Bruce? Eh, whatever, same difference.

I hastily unlocked the window, and let him inside. He quietly landed on the floor.

Can everyone do that but me?

Before I had a chance to speak, he embraced me tightly, "My God, Harley."

"Bruce," I smiled, tears welling up in my eyes. I hadn't seen him in so long. After my encounter with Pamela, I was beginning to get the feeling I never would.

"We should be quiet," I whispered, "Pamela is sleeping, but somehow I doubt it."

"Who is Pamela again?"

"Poison Ivy, Bruce." I cringed, waiting for his response.

He was silent for a moment, and finally whispered in a similar fashion, "Why did she rescue you? You never got the chance to explain anything to me."

"That is another long story." I rolled my eyes, "Do you have the time for it?"

He sat down on the bed, "Of course. For you, Harley, anything."

I sat down next to him, and he instinctively wrapped his arm around my waist, giving me the first sense of comfort I'd had in a very long time. I told him the whole story, from my rescue to the moment I got into bed that night.

"Wow," he sighed, "I need to get you out of here, Harley."

"You can't right now." I shook my head.

"Why not?"

"I told you. She knows who you are. She'll know you came to rescue me, and then she is going to blow your cover. Neither of us wants that." I stroked his fingers tenderly.

"You're right, as usual." He lay back against the pillows, bringing me back with him, "I've missed you so much, Harley."

"I missed you, too," I said, kissing him.

"I'm sorry I didn't come to you sooner. I couldn't go out with my injuries. Well, actually, I wanted to, and tried many times, but Alfred caught me." He chuckled a little under his breath, "He wasn't very happy about that."

I grinned, "I'd figure not, knowing Alfred."

He nodded, and took my hand in his, "Harley, I also have something I need to ask you. I know this isn't the right time at all, and not the place I planned on doing this…"

I cocked my head, puzzled, "What do you mean, Bruce?"

He took off his Batman mask, wiping the sweat from his forehead, "I meant it when I said I was going to take care of you, and I was going to make a life for us in the future. You and I will make it out of this alive. I promise you that. From now on, I will not let anything to happen to you. As I said, I know this isn't great timing, but…"

He dug in his pocket, producing a small, navy-blue velvet box.

My hands flew to my mouth, "You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm not." He opened the box, "Will you marry me, Harleen Quinzel?"


	6. Speechless

**A/N: This chapter title is one of my favorite songs right now. Love. **

**I don't own these characters. DC Comics does. Is very sad.**

Chapter 6: Speechless

_Could we fix you if you broke?_

_And is your punch line just a joke?_

_I'll never talk again_

_Oh boy, you've left me speechless, so speechless_

"_Speechless," Lady Gaga _

"Oh my God, Bruce…" I was shocked into submission, "Are you sure it's not too soon? It's only been a few months…"

"I know I want to be with you. Are you going to say yes or what?" he chuckled.

"Yes, yes, a million times yes!" I said, choked up with emotion as he slipped the beautiful Harry Winston on my ring finger. It was a big diamond; not too big, though, and the band was platinum with smaller diamonds encircling it. It looked like it very likely cost a fortune.

"Does it fit?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes," I smiled, and embraced him tightly, kissing him deeply, "I'm so happy."

"So am I," he kissed me again and again, pushing me backward onto the bed.

"Woah, woah," I said, "This is not the time for that. Pam will hear."

"Let her hear," he whispered.

"As much as I am extremely tempted, Bruce…if she finds you here, we're both fucked." I said, sitting up.

"We need to consummate this engagement." He was sort of pouting. It was pretty adorable.

"And we will," I intertwined my fingers through his, "Just not now and not here."

We both froze as we heard movement in the hallway.

"I'd better go," Bruce said, putting his mask back on, "There are deviants to attend to."

I followed him to the window, and I kissed him one last time, "I love you."

"I love you, too." He then disappeared into the night again.

I locked the window, and stared down at my finger. I was engaged…for the second time in my life. It was a rather bittersweet moment for me. My eyes filled with tears as I remembered that I could have been married once. It felt like so long ago, so far away. I hadn't visited John's grave at all since I watched them put the casket six feet under. I've had to bury so many people, too many people for a lifetime. I looked over at the bed. Bruce had left the ring box on the pillow.

I took the ring off, feeling terrible that I had to do so, but if Pam saw it, she'd have a fit, and she'd know that Bruce had been here.

I placed it back in the box, and went over to my armoire in the bedroom. I looked it over, trying to find the best place to conceal the ring. On the top shelf was a small jewelry box. I pulled it out, and noticed that on the side was a compartment, obviously meant to be hidden. I guess fate intervened on this one. I put the ring inside, closing it quietly, and put the box back on the top shelf, pushing it as far back as I could. I am kind of short, so the top shelf was a stretch for me.

I got back into bed again, noticing that it was nearing 4 AM. Ugh, I needed sleep. However, this time, as I closed my eyes, nothing disturbed me.

…

When I woke up again, it was 12:30 in the afternoon, and I decided that it would probably be worth getting up at this point. I stretched, feeling my bones crack uncomfortably. I wiped at my eyes, trying to get the sleep out of them.

I padded down the hallway in my big, mint green slippers (well, Pam's big mint green slippers), and saw Pam sitting in the kitchen, making a sandwich.

"Morning, sunshine," she said, handing me a plate, "I was making some grilled cheese, and I figured you'd be up soon, so I made you one, too."

"Thanks," I said, sitting down at the table.

After she had finished making her own sandwich, she sat down next to me, sipping her orange juice. The woman didn't drink any type of soft drink. She was a freak of nature…er, well…ok, that was an unintended bad pun.

"Harley, I have to ask you something." She said after a moment.

I looked up quickly; too quickly, I cursed myself, "What?"

"Do you talk in your sleep?"

"Uh…not that I know of…why?" I was instantly relieved. She hadn't heard Bruce.

"Oh, I got up to go to the bathroom, and I heard you moving around and whispering."

"Wow, that's embarrassing. I didn't know I did that." I laughed it off dismissively.

"It sounded like you were saying Bruce or something, or maybe having a conversation with him."

"That's weird. I must miss him more than I want to admit." I shrugged.

"Do you want to see him that badly?" she said, looking me straight in the eye.

"It would be nice, but if you don't want me to, then whatever."

"Maybe you can…I'll think about it. I don't really feel like dealing with a roommate that's going to mope around like a sad-sack all day." Pamela rolled her eyes, "Because I can just tell that you're going to be like that."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." I remarked sarcastically.

"I'm going out," she said, standing up.

"To do what?"

"To do none of your god damn business." She said, putting her plate in the sink, and walking out of the kitchen.

"Fine, whatever," I said, "I'll just sit here alone all day."

"Suit yourself," she said, no trace of any sympathy in her voice.

As soon as I heard the door close behind her, I rushed over to the phone. I dialed the Wayne manor number, and Alfred picked up after the second ring, "Wayne Manor, how may I help you?"

"Hey, Alfred, it's Harley."

"Oh, Miss Quinzel! It's so good to hear your voice again!" he sounded delighted, "Master Wayne has been very worried about you."

"I know," I smiled, "I worry about him, too. Where is he right now?"

"At work. Would you like me to give you his office number? He might be in a conference right now, though."

"I'm sure he'll take my call." I assured him. After Alfred gave me the number and we said our good-byes, I picked up the receiver again and dialed the office number.

Bruce picked up after a few rings, "Hello, Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises."

"Hey, fiancé," I grinned as I said it.

"Oh my God, Harley, hey!" he said, "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything's fine. Pam just went out, and I was wondering if you could…"

"Come over. I will be there in 15 minutes." He hung up before I could say anything else.

…

I got call from Bruce's cell around 10 minutes later, "Um…which floor are you on again?"

"Penthouse A," I said.

"Oh, like the one you used to…"

"Yeah, like my parent's penthouse." I filled in, "Just get up here."

A minute later, there was a knock on the door, and I opened it to reveal Bruce, all dapper in one of his very clean-cut Armani suits. I pulled him inside quickly, and locked the door behind him.

"Pam might be back any time." I said, taking off my shirt and pants.

"My, you're forward today." He didn't look too upset about that.

We made love on the couch, and lay under the blanket together, him stroking my shoulders and my arms, "I missed this."

"Oh, you have no idea." I said, sighing happily.

"Has Pam been treating you alright?"

"Yeah, I guess. She's very secretive. She's like some kind of desperate housewife or something. She cooks and cleans like a machine, and then she just slips out and doesn't come back for hours."

"We could use that to our advantage." He kissed my finger.

"I know, but we do have to be careful. She's also a very suspicious person, and short-tempered. It's not a pleasant combination." I shook my head.

"Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?" he said, looking down at me.

"Yeah, you've mentioned it." I said, irritated that he wasn't paying much attention to me, "Snap out of it, dude."

"What?" he asked innocently.

"This can't happen every day."

"Why not?"

"She's going to find out."

"You sound like you're cheating on her or something." He chuckled, "You're being a bit paranoid, don't you think?"

"I don't think I'm being paranoid enough. This woman is capable of horrible, devious things. That's how I am here in the first place."

"She did save you, though, regardless of her intentions." Bruce pointed out, "She can't be the most horrible person in the world."

"Don't stick up for her," I pouted, "She's keeping me from you."

His arms tightened around me, "She's not going to win this. I promised you a better life, and you will get it."

"Thanks, Bruce," I said, smiling up at him, "You do make me feel safe. Maybe it's the whole I'm a superhero thing."

"I am pretty awesome." He shrugged, and his eyes narrowed as he saw my left hand, "Where is your engagement ring?"

"I hid it."

"Why?"

"So that Pam can't see it," I said matter-of-factly.

"That's bullshit, Harley." He snapped, "What the fuck do I care if she sees it? She can come find me. I'll kick her ass until she cries."

"Bruce, calm down." I said, surprised at his outburst.

"No, I won't calm down!" He pushed me upright, away from him, "I've never proposed to anyone before, Harley! This is special and very important to me, and you're treating it like it's a crime. That's not right at all!"

"Ok, I'll put it on," I said, shaking a little. I wrapped his shirt around me, and got the ring from my armoire, and slipped it onto my finger. I came back into the living room, showing it to him, "Here it is. I'll wear it from now on. I'm sorry for upsetting you, Bruce."

"It's alright, babe." He said, not sounding alright at all, "I'd better get going."

"Ok…" I said, handing him back his shirt. He got dressed again, not even looking at me.

There was a tense silence in the room, awkward and uncomfortable…something I had never felt around him before. He turned to face me, leaning down to my level, "Next time she leaves, call me. And you'd better be wearing that ring."

I nodded, eyes wide, "I will be."

He stood up, and headed toward the front door to the penthouse, "Alright, well, I'm going back to work. I love you, Harley."

"I love you too, Bruce." I called as he closed the door.

I got dressed again, feeling sort of numb. Why had Bruce reacted so strangely? That was not like him to get so worked up like that. I didn't realize how much this engagement meant to him. I bit my lip, staring down at the diamond on my finger. It was so beautiful, so precious, obviously a symbol of our relationship. He wanted so badly to save me from what I had become. I knew that I could never do that on my own. I was too far gone to ever change that part of my life.

I held the ring up to the light. It glinted so beautifully. My ears perked up as I heard footsteps coming down the hallway. I jumped up, ran into my room, and stowed the ring safely away in the hidden compartment.

I casually strolled down the hallway leading to the kitchen as Pam was opening the door, arms full of groceries. Oh, so that's where she had gone.

"Need some help with those?" I offered.

She smiled, "Yeah, that would be good."

She was so fucking bipolar. It was kind of ridiculous. We quietly put the groceries away, and she stashed the bags into the trash can.

"What did you do while I was gone?" she asked.

It was an innocent enough question. I couldn't help feeling like there was some kind of agenda behind it. Pamela was no fool.

"Eh, just watched some TV." I shrugged, "Not much else to do."

"I'm going to take you out tonight." She declared.

"Where? Not to meet any familiar faces again, I hope." I narrowed my eyes.

"Oh shut up, Harley. I mean we're going out to a club."

"I don't think that's a very good idea." I said nervously.

"Why not? We're two hot single women. We deserve to get dressed up and go out." She said, folding her arms across her chest.

"I…I'm not single, Pam. I have Bruce."

"Who gives a shit about him?" she said dismissively.

"I do!" I snapped, "He's my boyfriend, and you better get fucking used to it, Pamela!"

"I hate when you call me Pamela." She said, sulking.

"Fuck you. I'm not going to some club where I can get felt up by a bunch of horny drunk men, and that's final. You can go do whatever the fuck you want, but I'm not participating in your escapades." I said, stalking out of the kitchen.

She followed me, grabbing onto my arm firmly, "Fine, we won't go there. I have an errand to run tonight, anyway."

"I'll only go if you promise that the Joker isn't going to be involved." I said, giving her a simpering glare.

"He won't be. He's busy." She said, eyes sliding away from mine.

"Oh, are you two on a BFFL basis now? Do you share stories about me, complain about how completely awful I am? That's real cute, Pam," I said scathingly.

"You're such a pain in the ass." She groaned.

"Call your best friend the Joker, and tell him all about it." I said, going into the bathroom and slamming the door in her face.

"Quit acting like a teenager!" she shouted through the door, "You're like 28 years old, for God's sake! Can't you just trust me?"

"NO!" I yelled in response, "After that stunt you pulled last night, there isn't a snowball's chance in hell of that ever happening!"

"Whatever, you just come out when you're ready to be an adult about this." She muttered, and walked away from the bathroom door.

I sat against the door, breathing heavily. I hated this place. I just wanted to be in Bruce's arms, or going to the Vera Wang outlet to try on wedding dresses, planning appetizers for the reception…anything but sobbing in a stranger's bathroom. I had to do what she asked. My life really wasn't up to me these days. I couldn't hide in here forever. I could escape. I could escape tonight.

That thought instilled some confidence in me. I smiled deviously to myself. If we were out, she couldn't keep her eye on me at all times. I could get out of here. I could hide out at Bruce's. I could go anywhere but here. I stood up shakily, steadied myself on the sink.

I glanced at my reflection, my blue eyes brighter than they had been in days. Why hadn't I thought of this before? This was going to be too easy.

I exhaled deeply, and opened the bathroom door.

I found Pam in the living room, reading a magazine.

"Fine, I'll go out tonight." I said, leaning against the wall behind her.

I didn't like the slow, creeping smile that crossed her face, "Good."


	7. Vicious Remarks and Verbal Attacks

**A/N: I cranked this out. Go me. **

**R&R Loves. I don't own DC Comics affiliated characters.**

Chapter 7: Vicious Remarks and Verbal Attacks

_The least you could do is take it back_

_All your vicious remarks and verbal attacks_

_Cause I can't fucking stand it when you're around._

"_When You're Around," Motion City Soundtrack_

After making the preparations ready for a night out, Pamela and I made the trip down the fire escape yet again. It was no easier this time, in case anyone was wondering.

"Harley, seriously," Pamela looked up at me, as I was still frozen on the 3 foot jump, "The worst that could happen is like a scratch or something."

"I am very injury-avoidant." I snapped.

"Whatever, Harley, I don't have all damn night to wait for you."

"I'm getting there." I said, and made the jump, managing to at least catch myself this time around, and not bruising my ass in the process.

"Better," she remarked.

She began to stride away from me, leaving me to catch up with her in my rather uncomfortable thigh-high leather boots, "Pam!"

"It's Poison Ivy when we're in public." She hissed at me.

"Sorry," I drawled, "Where are we going tonight?"

"I have some business to take care of," she stared straight ahead as we walked.

"Well, that told me absolutely nothing."

"It's better if you didn't know."

"Am I going to object to this outing? I have a feeling that I am." I felt like a little lap-dog, jumping up and down to get her attention.

"You'll see. Be patient."

"It's not one of my strongest virtues."

"Well, make it one for now."

"Bitch," I muttered.

"I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that." She rolled her eyes as if I were some sort of petulant child. Ok, well, that may not be that far from the truth…

We walked for a while; I don't really know how long. We were getting more into the heart of Gotham, where the hard-core crimes reigned supreme. The Joker's old warehouse was around here. I vaguely remembered the neighborhood. I stopped for a moment, seeing it in the distance. The windows were broken into, and the door kicked in. Clearly, he had abandoned it in those three months after my almost-wedding. It gave me a bit of a chill, seeing the place again. It felt surreal, like I had been there in a dream once.

"What's the matter?" Pamela asked, obviously noticing that I wasn't following her anymore.

"I lived there for a few months. It's…it has a lot of memories."

"What kind of memories?"

"Some good, some sad," I shrugged, "I just never thought I'd see it again."

"We better just move on." Pamela said, a little bit of anxiety in her tone.

"Yeah, I guess you're right…" I said, taking a last lingering glance at the warehouse. I wondered if my car was still there. I know it's stupid to dwell on material possessions, but god damn it, that car was my baby. It was the also thing in my life that still had any connection to my parents. One of his henchmen probably ran it into the bay or a ditch or something by now. It made me furious to think that they had ruined a beautiful sports car like that. Or maybe the Joker just didn't want to be reminded of me after he thought I had burned to a crisp in that church. Both of those two scenarios were equally plausible.

I followed Pamela in silence, contemplating my life. That seemed to happen a lot. I thought about the fact that I was 28 years old and wasn't at least married. What if I never had children? What if I never lived the perfect life I had always dreamed of? What if something happened to Bruce and we couldn't be together? He had seemed so upset when he saw that I wasn't wearing his engagement ring. I had worn it tonight, under my gloves, just as a reminder of him, and because Pamela wouldn't be able to notice it under the thick patent leather.

I would find out later that that was a pretty fucking awful plan on my part.

…

Pamela stopped at a building another two blocks down. She looked back at me for a moment; she was searching my eyes for something, perhaps she thought I was going to object to the situation. She shook a little in the cold, and flipped her hair away from her face. Without saying a word to me, she opened the door to the building, and went inside. I stared after her for a moment, not sure what I was supposed to do.

She gestured for me to come inside, and I reluctantly did, a feeling of dread seep through my veins. I knew something was going to go wrong tonight; that much was obvious. I don't know to this day what made me trust her for that split second, but I knew in my heart that I was going to regret it.

We climbed a few flights of stairs; the interior looked like an apartment building that had been abandoned for a while. I felt as if I were in a horror movie or something, waiting for the killer to jump out at every corner.

Pamela didn't seem that nervous, though. She clearly had been here before; she knew her way through the building, and in the dark, no less.

We stopped at a door on the fifth floor of the complex, and Pamela rapped on it twice. The door slowly opened, and revealed a virtually empty room, save for a few unmarked boxes in the corner and a rather ominous-looking chair placed near the wall.

I glanced up at Pamela; she purposefully did not return the gesture.

"I'm here." She announced, "And I did as you asked."

At that moment, I knew exactly what was going on here. I turned away, trying to make a run for the door, but a huge bodyguard stopped me. I recognized him immediately. It was Antoine, gold teeth, bald head, and everything, just as I remembered him.

"I don't think you'll need to leave anytime soon, Miss Quinn." He smiled grimly.

"Oh, Harley, always so anxious." His voice echoed throughout the room, "Come over here and give your old pal the Joker a hug."

"The last thing I want to do is touch you, you piece of shit." I said venomously, not turning to face him, "The next time I do that, I want to be dancing on your grave."

"Pamela, what are you doing to her? She's so bitter." The Joker said, "Turn around, Harley."

"No," I said firmly. I wouldn't let him see that I was shaking uncontrollably.

"Antoine," the Joker snapped his fingers.

Antoine grabbed me, and I struggled against his massive forearms. I tried to bite him, but he just laughed in that deep, grumbling way that he did, "That's not going to stop me, Miss Quinn."

He then picked me up, and put me down in front of the Joker, who had long since turned around in his chair.

"There. That's much better." The Joker grinned, standing up. He walked toward me, grabbing my chin, thrusting it upward to meet his eyes, "Now I can see your pretty face."

I spat in his face, "Fuck you!"

His eyes narrowed in rage, and he smacked me, causing me to fall to the floor. Pamela rushed forward to help me up, but the Joker pushed her roughly back, "Don't touch her! You brought her here; that's all I asked of you. If you would just kindly get the fuck out of here, that would help me out immensely."

"What are you going to do to her?" Pamela sounded actually upset. Obviously, this was not what she was thinking would happen. She was caught off-guard, and I knew that she hated that feeling most of all. She didn't like being the fool.

"That's none of your concern." The Joker said, wiping his face, "Now get out, or I will have Antoine take you out."

"I could take him." Pamela said, arms folded across her chest.

"I somehow doubt that." The Joker chuckled, "But I suppose since you're so damn adamant, you could stay for the fun."

I did not like the sound of that one bit.

"Get up, Harley, stop milking it. I didn't hit you that hard." The Joker said, sounding bored.

I slowly got to my feet, and touched my face. It burned a little where he had slapped me. It was definitely going to leave a mark. Not like I didn't have enough from him already.

I reached into my belt, trying to pull the gun quickly from its holster, but the Joker was faster. He grabbed my wrist, "I don't suggest you do that. Just give it to me, and this will not end in your bloody and painful death."

I stood stock-still, waiting to see what he would do. His hand, still gripped tightly onto my left arm, moved to my hand, prying the gun from my fingers. He took it out of my hand and pulled it open, unloading the bullets onto the floor, "Ok, that takes care of that. But now there's another question at hand, my dear Harley."

He pulled my glove off, and pushed my ring finger back, "What the hell is this?"

As I said before, this was the wrong night to wear that ring.

"What do you think it is?" I retorted snidely.

He pulled it from my finger, and I cried, "No! Give it back!"

"What the hell is this, Pamela?!" the Joker shouted, "You let her see Wayne! I told you to stop it from happening!"

"I didn't know she saw him!" Pamela shook her head vehemently, "She must have done it behind my back!"

The Joker swiveled on me, thrusting the ring in my face, "How many times have you seen him?"

"Twice," I said, trying not to let myself become intimidated by him.

"Goddamn it, Harley!" He grabbed me by my forearms, "You agreed to marry him?!"

"Yes, and I'd do it again." I said, my chin held high.

"I could fucking kill you." He seethed, releasing me.

"Go ahead. See if you can." I said, "And if you do something to that ring, I will tell Bruce, and he won't be very happy with you about that."

"I don't give a fuck what Wayne thinks!" he was basically throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of the room, "This wasn't supposed to happen!"

"Oh, are you jealous or something? Because you SO could have had this if you weren't such a fucking dick." I said, my hand on my hip in a provocative manner, "Do whatever you want with me, Joker, but you know you can't beat Bruce."

"Don't say his goddamn name in front of me." He said with gritted teeth, "You are the most infuriating person I've ever met."

"Likewise," I smirked, "What did you want from this meeting in the first place, Joker? Did you think you were going to win me back by verbal and physical assault? Yeah, that totally worked. You're such a Casanova."

"Shut the fuck up!" he screamed at me, grabbing me by the collar, "I could do whatever I wanted to you right now."

"But you won't." I said, narrowing my eyes at him, "You can't stand to see me in pain."

"The hell I can't." his grip tightened, cutting off some of my oxygen, "I could squeeze the fucking life out of you, Harleen Quinzel. I should have done this from the beginning."

"You rescued me to beat the ever-loving crap out of me?" I asked hoarsely.

He stared me down for a moment, and after a tense moment, finally let me go. I inhaled deeply, trying to recover my lost oxygen.

He stared at Pamela, "This was all your fault. You were supposed to watch her. You were supposed to make her love me again."

"Well, I can't force love on anyone." She raised an eyebrow, "You know that."

"You have fucking love potions in your apartment. Why didn't you give it to her?"

"I didn't want to." She shrugged, "I feel bad for the girl. You brought her to about an inch of death and then decided at the last minute that you wanted to save her. It's not my fault that you can't decide if you love her or hate her."

"I wish I could." He glanced at me, "You don't even have the faintest idea of how complicated this whole situation is."

"I can deduce." Pamela said curtly, "And this meeting was a mistake. You got what you wanted. You saw her again."

"You were going to drug me?" I asked in disbelief.

"I didn't." she said.

"Yeah, well, you still had the intention of it!" I exclaimed, "This is just fucking ridiculous. Why did I let you save me? I should have just choked on rubble and died."

"Don't say that. You're such a little drama queen." Pamela gave me the same look that my mother used to give me when I complained about Maggie hitting me with her toys.

"Isn't she?" the Joker agreed.

"Is the beat up on Harley club or something?" I put my hands on my hips, "Pam, can we just get out of here?"

"Sure," Pamela and I headed for the door, which Antoine was still blocking.

"Boss, you're just going to let them go?" Antoine looked puzzled.

"For now," the Joker said, staring down at my engagement ring, "I really need to think. This is not going the way I planned."

I walked over to him, touching my ring, feeling the contours of the diamond, and finally pulled my hand away, "I will be back for that ring, you know."

He looked up at me, his eyes the saddest that I have ever seen them, "I know, Harley."

He looked down again, the light from the diamond glinting slightly in the pitch black of the room. I began to walk away, but something caused me to pause, just to watch him for a moment. His fist closed around the ring, seeming to want to crush it into little pieces.

"I hate you, Harleen Quinzel." He whispered to himself, something I don't think I was intended to hear, "But why can't I stop loving you?"


	8. Your Revenge

**A/N: I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write. I haven't really been feeling inspired recently, and today in English class, I was. Ha. How funny life is. Here you go, faithful readers. Chapter 9 could be on the way soon...**  
**I don't own DC Comics affiliated characters.**

Chapter 8: Your Revenge

_I want your love and I want your revenge_

_You and me could write a bad romance_

_I want your love and all your lovers' revenge_

_You and me could write a bad romance._

"_Bad Romance," Lady Gaga _

It had been one week since I met with the Joker and he took my engagement ring. God knows what he had done to it by now; probably put it in an incinerator, thrown it out a window...whatever. I didn't understand him at all. First, he wanted to kill me, and then he wants to save me, and then he wants to love me again. It was all so very confusing. I didn't really comprehend what went through his head; not like I ever tried to in the first place, anyway. Even if he did love, he didn't have a chance at getting me back after what he had done. I kept thinking it was rather arrogant of him to believe that I would dump Bruce just because he tried to blow me up to kingdom come.

Yeah…seriously.

I had tried to contact Bruce, but he had been out doing Batman things…or at least I hope so. He could be ignoring me…I wouldn't really blame him. Needless to say, I was rather nervous to see him again, considering I had basically, you know, let the Joker get wind of our engagement and the fact that his beautiful, expensive ring was now in the hands of the man he hated the most in the world.

Pamela had tried to get me to run errands with her, but I just didn't care about the outside world, regardless of the fact that I was on the run from the Gotham Police Department.

I pretty much had been lying on the couch, staring mindlessly at the television, watching marathons of America's Next Top Model and letting my brain rot until I decided to eat and go to bed. Pamela was getting a little sick of that pattern.

"Harleen Maria Quinzel, get your ass up off that couch." She demanded, standing in front of the television as Tyra Banks was about to release one of the girls from Top Model captivity.

"I refuse." I said, trying to crane my neck to see the television.

"Are you still pissed at me?"

"Yes." I said bluntly.

"Well, quit holding a grudge. You have to live with me, you know." She said, sitting down next to me.

"Go away," I said irritably.

"I refuse." She retorted.

"Touché," I slid my eyes away from hers.

"Harley, you're being ridiculous. I took you to the Joker because I had to. I had no choice in the matter whatsoever."

"Uh, yeah, you did. You had the choice to not take me." I said snidely.

"No, not really," She drew her knees up to her chest, "The Joker has some shit on me that I can't walk away from."

"You want to talk about it?" I asked, actually intrigued.

"Not right now," Pamela replied, sighing.

"Well, then I'm not going to forgive you for throwing me to the lions…again."

"The Joker loves you."

"Tell me something I don't know." I rolled my eyes.

"Don't you even care?" she frowned.

"No, I honestly don't. I could have loved him once. I could have loved him if he hadn't decided to kill my family and ruin any chance I ever had of being happy. He just has to deal with the fact that he can't get what he wants, and it's his fucking problem. He's a spoiled child; he thinks he can do whatever he wants if he just uses force and emotional warfare. He thinks I'm weak. That's where he went wrong with the whole situation. I suppose I let him think that, considering he wanted me to run away with him, to run away from a great job and a supportive family, and I did it. I did something I never expected to do because of him, and I'm still trying to figure out if I regret it or not." I stared out the window, at the expansive city below me, "I feel like I should know by now, but it's complicated."

Pamela smiled at me, "All forms of love are complicated."

"Ain't that the truth," I said, sighing.

…

I lay in bed the next morning, just thinking about my situation, and came to a realization.

The Joker would always have me. No matter what I did, or what I claimed to believe, he would have me. And I would always have him under my skin, like a parasite that never stops gnawing at my heart. His laughter – cold, cruel – runs through my veins. When I sleep, he haunts me. Not his face only, then the memory of him, our bodies and our fates intertwining in a never-ending cycle. The day I first saw him in that cell, eyes dark and uncaring. I will never know why I went to him, and why I did all those crazy things just to get his attention, as twisted as it seems.

Perhaps I do know…but I just don't want to face it.

I have Bruce. I have a man who would sacrifice anything for me. I have a man who wants to marry me, to be with me for the rest of his life.

Yet, I can't help thinking…I don't know how or why, perhaps it's some type of premonition…but Bruce is going to leave me. He won't be able to keep this up. It will get to him. Once he finds out that I gave up the ring, the symbol of his commitment to me, he will crack. He won't be able to hide his rage. I don't blame him. What I did was fucking stupid. It was really, really fucking stupid.

He is going to hate me. He is going to scream at me.

He will leave me.

What happened next in my story is still a blur to me. I remember getting up, picking up the phone. Bruce wanted to come over. I said yes, please come over. He walked in the door, smiling, so happy. He looked down at my ring finger, puzzled. I exhaled deeply, and then I told him what had happened 2 nights before. I saw that smile fade away. I saw everything; his emotions, his heartache, his feeling of loss and total betrayal from the woman he loves.

I see him now, his mouth moves, but I remain speechless, feeling like everything is going in slow-motion. I don't feel anything. His eyes blaze, so angry…he is so, so angry. He grabs my wrist tightly, shaking it, screaming at me. Why am I not listening? Why can't I hear him? Why don't I care?

He lets go. He stares at me; he doesn't know what to do.

I hear him say, "Good-bye Harley; I hope you're happy with the fucking clown."

It sounds as if I'm underwater, as if I'm drowning and can't reach the surface. I want to cry out, make him come back, but nothing happens.

The door slams. I sit there, not even feeling the tears roll down my cheeks. I stand up; everything is blurred. I'm dizzy. I can't see where I'm going. I find my way to the bathroom, stripping my clothes away. I step in the shower, on auto-pilot, feeling the hot water on my skin. I lose track of time.

"Harley!" Pamela is shaking me when I snap back to reality, to full-speed again.

"Harley, what the hell happened to you? You look like you've been crying for hours. I found you just standing in there, completely still. What's wrong?" Pamela asked.

"I'm naked." I said finally.

She handed me a towel, "Now you're not. Talk to me, Harley. What's wrong?"

"I think…I think Bruce left me." I said, and I fell to my knees, a resounding thump on the marble floor, "Bruce dumped me."

I began to sob hysterically into my hands, "Pamela, God help me…what the hell am I going to do without him? I was going to be happy with him! I was going to have kids and dogs and a white picket fence and everything! Now I'm alone! I'm going to die alone and never feel his love again! What the hell am I going to do now, Pammy? What am I going to do?"

Pamela knelt down to my level, and put her arms around me.

I just cried and cried.


	9. A Fall from Grace

**A/N: Wow, I cranked this out. What a treat for all of you. Hopefully this explained a lot of the secrecy going on... **

**I don't own DC Comics characters. **

Chapter 9: A Fall from Grace

_You know I'll run far away_

_I need to take a holiday_

_Maybe it's a fall from grace_

_I gotta find a new place_

_A holiday_

_I'll set off on a new chase_

_I gotta see a new face_

_I need to take a holiday_

"_Holiday," Boys Like Girls _

I was a mess, needless to say. I didn't move from my bed for almost 3 days before Pamela decided that that was enough.

She stomped into the room, and stopped in front of my bed, hands planted firmly on her hips, "You are seriously not going to lie in your bed and stare at the ceiling like a hopeless idiot anymore! I can't take it! You haven't eaten anything, you haven't said anything, and this is just ridiculous! Bruce is a fucking moron for dumping you over something like that. I'm not saying anymore on that matter, because I know you're just going to start crying again, but I'm letting you know that I'm sick and tired of your bullshit, Harley! If Bruce is going to act like that, then he doesn't deserve you! Now get the fuck out of bed and eat something for God's sake!"

She then turned on her heel and walked out of the room as quickly as she came.

I stared after her retreating figure, seeing some sense in her words. I didn't act like this when John died, but then again…John _died_. There's an obvious finality to that circumstance. He wasn't still out there, able to date other women or find someone better than me. He wasn't still out there, thinking I'm the biggest bitch in the world and probably making me into a voodoo doll and stabbing me with bobby pins. Ok, maybe I took that a little too far. Bruce didn't know any black magic. Or…did he? Ok, yeah, seriously, I'm being an idiot.

I sat up stiffly, stretching my arms, bones cracking. I stood up, feeling a little wobbly after having lain down for like…a while.

I padded down the hallway in my slippers, and into the kitchen. It was almost 1 in the afternoon, so Pamela was in the kitchen, making herself lunch.

"May I have some?" I asked quietly. My stomach was growling like crazy.

She turned, slightly startled, "Oh, I wasn't actually expecting you to get up."

"Yeah, well, I've been a vegetable long enough. And I'm really fucking hungry." I admitted.

She smiled, "What would you like?"

"Whatever you're making is fine." I said.

"You want steamed broccoli?"

I wrinkled my nose, "Ugh, no. Can't you just order me a pizza?"

She laughed, "Sure. Just cheese, as usual?"

I nodded.

About 45 minutes later, Pamela and I were sitting in the living room with our greasy New York pizza, laughing at the Rhodes scholars that were the actors on Jersey Shore.

"Do you think I could my hair to poof like that?" Pam asked, pointing at Snooki.

"I think it's too straight." I said.

"Damn," she said, feigning disappointment.

I laughed, and ate another piece of pizza, "Thanks for this, Pam. I needed something to get my mind off of Bruce for a while."

"No big deal," she said dismissively, "I've been through some bad break-ups, too. I understand."

"I don't know why he did it. I can't really seem to remember anything but him yelling at me." I said, leaning back against the couch, "Maybe I just blocked it out to not feel anything. I tend to do that…a lot."

"Maybe you and Bruce just weren't meant to be, Harley." Pam shrugged, "You know that your past is always going to be a part of your present, and he wasn't going to be able to deal with that. Not a lot of men can."

"Yeah, but I guess I just thought he would be different." I sighed, "He was so nice about it before. He seemed to understand."

"You never know. He could come back. He could think it over and realize what he did was stupid." Pamela said, closing the empty pizza box.

"I don't know about that. He seemed pretty angry. Honestly, I don't know if I'd take him back, anyway, after the way he handled it." I said, "I can't be with someone who flies off the handle like that. It's not like I meant to have the Joker find out about our engagement."

"Why didn't you tell me you were engaged, anyway?" Pamela asked.

"Well…we didn't want to risk anyone finding about us and having it get back to the Joker. Bruce is already on his shit list. We didn't want to make it worse. It doesn't matter anyway, now that he has decided to break it off." I bit my lip, "I miss him."

"That's natural." Pam said consolingly.

"It's just that…he wanted to marry me. He wanted to provide for me. He wanted us to have kids and a dog. He had to have had really strong feelings for me; otherwise he wouldn't have told that he wanted those things." I felt my eyes welling up with tears, "I wanted those things, too."

"Oh no, no, no, don't start the waterworks on me." Pamela shook her head vehemently, "You need to get past that stage. You are a strong woman. You are not a slave to anyone, not even Bruce Wayne. Get over it."

"It's kind of hard to get over it." I snapped.

"How long were you two even together?"

"Like 6 months," I said, a little flustered, "But that's long enough to fall in love with someone, Pam! That's long enough to see yourself living your life with that person."

"I gave up men a long time ago, Harley. They're not worth the time." She gave me a simpering glare, "Especially when they do bad things to good women who deserve it. I will make Bruce Wayne pay for what he did to you."

"There's no need for that." I wiped at my eyes, "I don't want to him to hurt anymore than he already does."

She folded her arms across her chest, over her old, beat-up Harvard sweatshirt, "Are you sure? I do have some friends who could take care of it."

I smiled a little, "I'll be ok, Pam. I just need some time. I just need to get rid of the 'you're going to die alone' thoughts that are going through my head every 3 seconds."

"You aren't going to die alone, you moron." Pamela shoved my shoulder playfully, "I'll make sure of that."

I embraced her, "Thanks, Pam. You're such a good friend to me."

"No problem at all," she said, but there was a slight edge to her voice. I couldn't really tell what emotion was behind it, but it disturbed me a little. I didn't know why, but it did.

She held onto me for a bit over the comfortable time limit, and I pulled away, "Well, I'm going to shower. I feel disgusting."

She stood up, picking up the pizza box, "Go ahead. Don't take too much time, because I need to get in there, too."

"Ok," I said in response.

I stood in the shower, trying to relax and stop myself from crying again. Life was going to be so hard without him. He was all I had ever wanted in a man. There was no way I was going to end up in the Joker's arms again. Wait…what the hell? Why was I even thinking that at all?

Ugh, this break-up was affecting me worse than I thought.

…

While Pam was in the shower, I sat in the living room, just scrolling through TV channels mindlessly. I had no particular interest in television at all, but I couldn't stand the boredom…or the silence. Suddenly, the sound of the phone ringing jerked me from the doldrums that had previously been imminent.

That was odd. No one called here…ever. My heart stopped for a moment. It had to be Bruce.

I did my best not to lunge at the phone. I calmly (as possible) got up, and picked up the phone, "Hello?"

"Harley?" _So_ not the voice I had wanted to hear.

"What the fuck do you want, ass-hole?" I snapped, "How did you get this number?"

"I heard about what happened between you and Brucey, and I can't say I'm not delighted to know you're rid of him." I could just see his smug smile now, which irritated me more than words could ever express.

"You didn't answer my question about how you got this number." I said flatly.

"Pam gave it to me." The Joker said matter-of-factly.

"Why did she do that?"

"Hell if I know. I just wanted to give you the ring back, considering you have no fiancé, anyway." He said, his words wrenching the hole in my heart even wider.

"Keep it." I sighed, not even interested in banter at this point, "I don't want anything to remind me of him."

"Oh, so I can burn it?"

"Knock yourself out, kiddo." I said, almost – keyword there being almost – smiling at the idea, "So, let me get this straight. You called me because you were worried about me?"

"Essentially," he admitted, "I also wanted to rub it in your face that you were wrong about Wayne."

"No, I wasn't wrong about him. He's a good guy and I'm a shitty girlfriend. The whole shitty girlfriend thing isn't exactly my fault, considering you make me that way." I said.

"I don't make you anything. You just choose to dwell on me, Princess."

"I still hate you. I'm not sure why I'm even bothering to have a conversation with you." The sound of that catty nickname just irked me, and changed my mood from angry to angrier.

"Please, I should be the one who hates you more."

"Oh yeah, Mr. J, how do you figure that?" I was legitimately curious to hear how he thought his life could have sucked more than mine right now.

"You've betrayed my trust multiple times, and you throw the feelings I have for you in my face. It's not very nice, Harley."

"Fuck you!" I exclaimed, "Just because I've betrayed you doesn't give you any reason to kill vital people in my life. I hate you more, and I deserve to hate you more."

"Keep telling yourself that, Princess."

I slammed the phone down onto the receiver, thus hanging up on the aforementioned ass-hole.

Pamela had emerged from the bathroom in her green flowered robe, drying her hair with one of her many green towels, and was staring at me, "I heard yelling. Who were you on the phone with?"

"I'm sure you can guess." I said shortly.

"Bruce?"

"No," I said, frustrated, "The other man who loves me."

"Oh," she said with recognition, and suspiciously didn't act very surprised, "Why did he call?"

"To express his deepest sympathies," I said sarcastically, "I got sick of hearing his bullshit, so I hung up on him. If he calls back, don't pick up. I'm too pissed off and upset to deal with it."

"Alright, but Harley, you're kind of acting like a child about that whole situation with him."

I think my mouth hung open for a good few minutes before I mustered a response to that, "Um, excuse me?"

"The Joker just wants you back." She shrugged, pulling off the head towel, shaking out her long red hair, "The least you could do is hear him out."

"Whose side are you on anyway?" I stood up, folding my arms across my chest, "It sounds as if you want me to team back up with him. That road is far away from me now. That dark time in my life has been over for a while. He's the one who's acting like a child about it, calling up here like a creep. He clearly has informants around here, telling him about my every move."

I paced back and forth in the living room, contemplating, "Do you think it's the doorman? I always thought he looked suspic-"

"Ok, fine, I have been telling him." Pam blurted out.

I stopped abruptly where I stood, "Fuck me. Are you serious?!"

"Yeah, it's part of our deal." She admitted.

"What the fuck are you talking about? What does she have on you, Pam? I'll talk to him. I'll get him to release you from whatever deal you two may have. Seriously, I swear I will!" I said, "You're my only friend. I want to help you."

She sank down on the couch, "Let me explain."

I sat down next to her, and gestured for her to tell me.

Pamela exhaled deeply, "Well, as you know, we're both villains. We're bound to run into each other from time to time, do the usual banter for courtesy purposes. One night, after a bank job, I was heading down the back alley by this hotel. The Joker was standing there, with that weird smile he has. It's pretty fucking creepy, I have to tell you."

I shivered a little. Yeah, that smile was pretty familiar to me.

She patted my hand, sensing my discomfort, "The Joker told me about you. He told me how much he loved you, and that Bruce Wayne had you under his spell or something. Honestly, at the time, I didn't give a shit, but I let him vent because he clearly was desperate for someone to talk to about the situation. The two of us shared some stories, and I told him about how I became…me. I thought nothing of it until we met again a couple weeks after that, and he told me that he could find Jason for me, that he knew where he was hiding out. After all these years, I was going to get my vengeance. I told him that if he did me that favor, I would do one for him in return, naturally. He said that he was concocting a plan to off Bruce, and bring you back to him. See, the warehouse explosion was never meant to kill you. It was meant to kill Bruce. The whole you shooting him thing wasn't exactly according to his plan."

I smirked a little at the memory. I was still proud of that.

Pamela continued, "He told me that my favor to him would be to rescue you from the warehouse, and take care of him, because he knew that you were going to sustain some injuries from the blast. Obviously, the whole plan didn't work out. Bruce lived, and you weren't going to be a wreck, ready to go back to him."

"Well, that all sounds like him. I just didn't realize how much he wanted me back." I said, biting my lip. I didn't have the time or the energy to think about that right now, "But, the whole thing happened a couple months ago. Has he told you anything of Jason? Is he even alive?"

"Just that he's in Boston, under a different name…clearly to avoid all the lawsuits following him. He would probably have gotten like 20 years for what he did to me. He's working on getting the address. Once he does, I'm getting the hell down there, whatever it takes." Pamela said with a grin, "Oh, he's going to get the shock of his life, that motherfucker."

She mocked shooting a gun, with the 'bang' noise and everything attached.

"I'm glad that you're finally going to get your revenge on him, Pam, I really am." I said, sharing her grin, "Can I accompany you? I want to be there for you."

"If you want to," she said, looking surprised, "I was planning to do it alone, but you can drive the getaway car."

"Sounds like a plan." I said, and we clasped hands, "We're like so Thelma and Louise right now."

"I've never seen that movie." Pamela said, looking confused.

"Neither have I, actually. I was just trying to make a reference to sound cool." I admitted.

"Well, that failed." She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I see that now."


	10. Put a Bullet in His Brain

**A/N: Well, lucky you, I am inspired and wrote more. **

**I don't own DC Comics affiliated characters. **

Chapter 10: Put a Bullet in His Brain

_It's Janie's last I.O.U._

_She had to take him down easy and put a bullet in his brain_

_She said 'cause nobody believes me, the man was such a sleaze_

_He ain't never gonna be the same._

"_Janie's Got a Gun," Aerosmith_

"So, what am I supposed to do, just sit out here?"

Pamela and I were parked across the street from Dr. Jason Woodrue's new place of residence. It was in a neat little suburb outside of Boston, one of those suburbs where every house looks the same and everyone has a BMW or Mercedes-Benz and all the lawns are well-kept.

I had my black leather mask in order to remain anonymous from anyone who could have been spying on our conversation. It was like 2 in the morning, and we looked a little suspicious in our rented Chevy, staring at their house.

Pamela was just gazing at the house, apparently in her own little world.

I clasped her hand tightly, "Pammy, are you ok? Are you sure you want to do this alone?"

"Yeah," she said quietly, "I have to. I'm not getting you involved with my past. That wouldn't be fair to you."

"If you're sure…"

"I'm sure." She said firmly. She was in her full costume; an ivy crown encircling her red, wavy locks and a green satin dress with silk leaves sewed onto it, barefoot. In the glow of the streetlamp, her skin looked even greener than usual, especially accompanied with the costume.

She exhaled deeply, "Ok, I'm ready."

"Good luck, Pammy." I said, smiling.

"Thanks." She replied, opening the car door. She stepped out of the car, and walked swiftly toward the house.

I sat there in the car, just listening to the radio. I'm not honestly sure why anyone would even bother to listen to the radio at 2 AM; all they do is play techno remix crap. Eh, whatever. I kept watch for any cops who would be passing by or any wandering eyes by neighbors.

Suddenly, Pam was at the passenger door, knocking on the window. I rolled it down, "You did it already? That was quick."

"No, no, Harley," she looked thoroughly distraught, "He has children."

Oh. We definitely weren't expecting that.

"Shit, Pam…" I unlocked the door, and she sat down inside the car.

"I can't do this." She said, her breathing shallow, almost to the point of hyperventilation, "Harley, I can't do this to his children. They haven't done anything."

"Isn't this what you wanted, Pammy…to get back at him?" I asked, "Remember what you came here for."

"I can't do this alone. You're going to have to come with me." Pamela looked up at me, her green eyes pleading and, for the first time I'd ever seen them, frightened, "I can't their faces as they watch their father die."

"And you think I can?" I asked, a little offended at the idea.

"You've seen enough death. I figured you were a little more conditioned to it."

"It's not exactly something you get conditioned to, Pam." I rolled my eyes, "Are you going to do this or not? People are going to get suspicious if we just sit out here." I put my keys in the ignition, "We'd better just go."

She pulled the keys out, a fierce look in her eyes, "No. I have to do this. We drove all the way down here. I have to do this, Harley; otherwise I will never forgive myself."

"Well, ok, then," I said, "Let's do it."

She nodded.

We both got out of the car, and walked to the house. I had to admit I was a little nervous about this. I didn't even know this guy; all I knew was what Pam had told me. I'd watched my own parents die in front of me. It wasn't like I wanted the same fate for these children, who were still young. They needed their father. But then again, I couldn't ignore the fact that he had to pay for what he did to Pamela, no matter how many years ago it had been.

We reached the front door. Pamela pulled out a bobby pin, and picked the lock, quietly opening the door, and once we had entered, closed it behind her.

"Where are they?" I whispered.

"In the master bedroom," she said in a similar fashion, "Down the hallway."

I nodded in acknowledgment. We stealthily moved toward the bedroom, and pulled out our guns from their holsters at our hips. Pamela entered the room first.

"Get up, douche-bag!" she shouted, "Get the fuck up!"

There was a rustling from the bed, and a lamp turned on. A rather disheveled man stared at the two of us (but mostly Pamela) in complete and utter disbelief. He looked like he had definitely been very handsome once; now he had some graying at the temples and a few wrinkles, but he was still attractive in a distinguished way, kind of like George Clooney or something. Ok, not the right time for that. He was alone in the bed.

"Pamela Isley?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"You thought you were rid of me, didn't you, ass-hole?" Pamela's voice was rising in a hysterical tone, "You thought you could just get away with what you did to me?"

"I had no idea, Pam, I didn't! It was just an experiment!" I could tell that he was shaking, terrified of her. Well, I would be scared, too, if some crazy chicks with guns just broke into my house and were threatening my life.

"Who are the kids upstairs?" I asked. I knew Pamela was having too much of an out-of-body experience right now to bother asking that question.

"Who are you?" he inquired nervously.

"That doesn't matter," I said dismissively, "I asked you, who are the kids upstairs?"

"My neighbor's kids…I am babysitting them while their parents are having a date night." His eyes were so wide, I was surprised they didn't just pop out of his head, "My wife and I offered to babysit them."

"Where is your wife?" I shot at him, "Is she in the house?"

"No, she's an ER nurse. She got called in to work. Please don't kill her. She doesn't deserve this." Jason was crying now. He wasn't sobbing or anything, just crying softly. It kind of broke my heart a little, but I tried to shake any feelings of pity and guilt away.

"We're not going to kill her." Pamela finally spoke, "She doesn't have any part in this. This is between you and me, Jason."

He sighed, "I know. I know what I did to you was wrong, Pamela. I was young and stupid then."

Pamela tightened her grip on the gun, "And so was I, but that's no excuse for you taking advantage of me! LOOK AT ME, JASON! LOOK AT WHAT I'VE BECOME BECAUSE OF YOU!"

"Pam…" I reached toward her, and she knocked my hand away with her elbow.

"Harley, just go upstairs and get those kids out of here. I can't bear to have them hear somebody die." She said quietly, firmly.

I glanced between her and Jason, gun still held high, "Alright, if that's what you want, Pam."

"It is." her eyes were locked on Jason and his frightened face.

I backed out of the room, and went up the stairs and into the bedroom where the two children were sleeping in the same bed in what looked like a guest room. As I approached the bed cautiously, I realized I still had the gun in my hands. I quickly put it away. No need to scare the shit out of them.

I shook one of the children, a boy about 6 or 7 years old, "Sweetheart, you need to get up."

The boy opened his eyes groggily, "Who are you?"

"I'm Mr. Woodrue's friend. I'm coming to take you home. Your mommy and daddy are almost home and wanted me to put you to bed." I whispered.

"Oh, ok." The boy shook his sister, who was sleeping next to him, "We have to go home now, Maggie."

My heart dropped at the sound of that name.

The girl sat up, yawning, "What's the matter, John?"

Oh, this was just not my night.

"We're going home now." He repeated.

"Who are you?" Maggie asked skeptically.

"I'm one of Mr. Woodrue's friends who came to visit him. He isn't feeling good, so he asked me to take the two of you home." I said patiently.

The girl seemed convinced enough, so the two followed me out of the bedroom, and we made it to the front door before I realized something: I didn't have a key to their house.

I turned to them, "Wait right here, kids. I have to get the key from Mr. Woodrue."

They nodded, sleepy-eyed.

I went into the bedroom, where Pamela still stood near the bed, frozen.

She turned swiftly, "What the hell are you doing?"

"I need the key for the neighbors' house." I said, feeling a little dumb.

Jason shakily handed it to me, "Take care of them. They're good kids."

"I will." I said, and left the room again.

As we left the house, the kids grabbed onto each of my hands.

"Mommy says we have to hold someone's hand when we walk somewhere." John said matter-of-factly.

"Well, she's a very good Mommy to tell you that." I said, smiling at him.

I got the two of them into bed, and as I locked the front door to their house, I heard the 'bang!' of the gunshot come from Jason's house. I ran to the car just as Pamela was running out of the house, not even bothering to shut the door behind her. She jumped into the car, and we sped off, not even looking behind us.

I didn't look at Pamela for a couple of minutes; I was too focused on the road, and getting away from the scene. I gripped the wheel tightly, and just drove. I turned on the radio to loosen the tension in the car. A song by Aerosmith that I knew the words to but didn't know the name was playing,_ 'Janie's got a gun, Janie's got a gun, the whole world's come undone…from lookin' straight at the sun…'_

Pamela immediately shut the radio off. I finally turned to look at her. Her face was tear-streaked, like she had been crying for a while now. Her gun was in her lap, and she was just staring down at it, her face a mixture of relief and…I couldn't quite place the other feeling…sadness, maybe disbelief…I wasn't quite sure, nor did I want to ask.

I put my hand on her hand, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah…actually, I am." She said, smiling a little.

"That's good. I was worried about you for a minute there." I said, moving my hand back to the steering wheel.

"It was harder than I thought it would be." She said, leaning back against the seat, staring out the window at the highway, "I just thought I could walk in, that I wouldn't hesitate at all, but then I remembered all of the good times I had with him. I remembered the nights we spent making love, and how it was the greatest feeling to be in his arms afterward, him just stroking my hair and telling me that he would love me forever. I remember wanting to never let go of him, to stay there forever, trapped in time, and that nothing would ever change."

I felt tears welling up in my eyes at her words. It was exactly how I thought of Bruce. He hadn't called me in over a week. I had pretty much given up hope that he would ever forgive me.

"I know how you feel." I managed to get out.

"I'm sorry, Harley!" Pamela's eyes were wide, "Here I am, talking about all this romantic stuff and you just losing Bruce…"

"It's ok, Pam. I just have been trying to block out those feelings, just trying to ignore them and move on with my life. It's been so much more difficult than I had anticipated, letting him go." I couldn't face her; I didn't want her to see me losing it. My voice cracked, "I love him so much."

"You mean loved, past tense." She corrected.

"No, I don't," I snapped, "I still love him, no matter what he thinks of me. I told him what happened between me and the Joker because I couldn't bear to lie to him. He needed to know the truth whether he liked it or not. He took it very badly, and I can't say I wasn't expecting it. I had to do it. He needed to know. I don't regret what I did. I just regret the repercussions of it."

She nodded in agreement, "This has been an emotional night."

"You can say that again." I wiped at my eyes, "When I was with those kids, I was reminded of something that I'll never have."

"What's that?"

"A family," I replied with a sad smile, "Bruce and I were going to have a family together. Now there's no chance at me ever having that sort of perfect life. I'm going to have to settle for being a fugitive and conspiring with you and the Joker, being a villain. I can't be that wife that I wanted to be. I can't be like my mother. I won't be able to tell my kids to hold my hand when they cross the street or tuck them in at night and read them a story. I won't be able to watch my kids cross a stage at graduation, and be proud of them. God, Pam, it hurts so much."

"I feel that pain sometimes, too." Pamela admitted, "I think about it more often that you would think. I thought Jason would be the one to share that life with, too, but look what happened. All men ever do is leave you and break your heart."

"It's not the men's fault all the time." I pointed out, "This whole situation was my fault. I lost the symbol of our commitment to one another, something that cost him a lot of money and a lot of his love. Men are weaker in the heart than they say they are. They can't handle that much pain like we can. They pretend like they're strong, but they're really that much more sensitive."

"I don't believe that." Pamela folded her arms across her chest, "It's never happened in my past experiences."

"Well, just believe me. It is true." I assured her, "Men needed to be treated with the same respect that women do. They expect to have you express your love to them, and they don't want to initiate stuff all the time. They want to lay back and let you do a little work. Not all of it, but just a little."

"I don't need a lecture." She sulked.

"I'm just saying, Pam." I shrugged, "You can't be so narrow-minded about men. There are good ones out there. I lost 2 of them because of my stupidity."

"You're not stupid at all. You're one of the smartest women I know, Harley." Pamela said, shaking her head.

"I've made some pretty shitty decisions in my past, and they put me where I am now. I am coming to terms with it. You need to do the same." I glanced over at her.

"I feel better now that Jason is out of my life forever." She said firmly.

"Well, that's good. I'm glad that you do. You still need to think about the fact that his wife is going to come home and see her husband dead, and never find out the reason for it." I reminded her.

"Oh, she'll know." A slow grin spread across Pamela's full lips, "I left her a little note to remember me by."

"I hope to hell that you did not the sign that thing 'Pamela Isley.'" I said with a gasp.

"You think I'm fucking dumb? I signed it Poison Ivy. That's my primary name now. Only you call me Pam, anyway." She laughed.

"You are crazy. Seriously crazy, Pam," I shook my head in disbelief, "But, as long as you feel better and you won't be so damn angry all the time, I can't complain."

"You're such a bitch, Harley."

"Yeah, I know, but you seem to like hanging out with me anyway."

"I guess I do." She smiled.


	11. Can't Fight it Anymore

**A/N: This was a kind of emotional chapter where a lot of good things happen. But are they really that good? We'll see...  
I don't own DC Comics affiliated characters.**

Chapter 11: Can't Fight It Anymore

_Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor_

_Reaching for the phone because I can't fight it anymore_

_And I wonder if I ever cross your mind?_

_For me it happens all the time._

"_Need You Now," Lady Antebellum _

I was reading the latest People magazine in Pam's living room while she was out at the grocery store. It had been rather peaceful since we got back from Boston. Upon finishing my favorite thing in the magazine (the crossword puzzle – I can't get enough of those), I closed it and put it on the coffee table in front of me. Feeling the boredom already starting to settle in, I decided to quell it by turning on the television. I flipped the channels until something caught my attention.

"Hello, I'm Jessica Burns. Breaking news in Gotham today – the Batman has caught the Joker."

I was frozen. I…hadn't imagined that this day would be possible. I kept on listening to the news report.

"Last night, the Joker was attempting to plant a bomb in the Wayne Enterprises main headquarters when the Batman, who apparently had known of the scheme in advance, managed to secure over 75 Gotham police in the area. The Joker was caught, tried, and immediately placed back in Arkham Asylum. 2 years ago, he managed to escape from Arkham with the help of his notorious sidekick, Harley Quinn, formerly known as Dr. Harleen Quinzel, a brilliant and young psychologist at the time. Dr. Quinzel has been missing since the explosion of an unknown warehouse a few months back, and the Joker offered this to say about the incident."

Then I saw his face on-screen. They had him back in the restraints, and the reporters and guards were all crowded around him. I cringed. I knew how much he hated those things. I had heard enough of it when I first met him. I couldn't look away from the screen. This whole scenario was just surreal.

He smiled in that crazy way he did, "I want to let the public know that Dr. Harleen Quinzel is not a criminal. She did everything under my influence. I had her drugged the entire time on psychiatric medication I had stolen from Arkham when she helped me to escape. I request that Arkham Asylum give Har – Dr. Quinzel her job back post-haste. She deserves it, and should not be penalized for my actions. She is a good woman who made a mistake. I hope she is watching this right now, so she can feel at ease, and know that I never meant to hurt her."

His eyes were sincere…or, well, at least I thought they were. I could never tell. I felt my heart skip a beat. He was doing this all for me? He got himself caught to get me my job back, to get me off the hook? I was sure as shit that I had never been on any psychiatric medication. It was a perfect cover story, though. He had clearly thought it through.

The camera cut back to Jessica Burns, "Arkham Asylum has issued the statement that they wish to speak to Dr. Harleen Quinzel, and that she come out of hiding, because she is no longer under arrest by the city of Gotham. Our news team would also like to apologize to Dr. Quinzel for libelous accounts against her during this time. Please stay tuned for updates on this matter."

The report continued to other current events for the day. I stared at the television without listening. It really…really was that easy…? Just like that, I was handed my life back. I didn't have to be Harley Quinn anymore.

I wasn't quite sure how I felt about that. I had lived my life like this for so long. Could it really have been 2 years since I first met him? Over a year since Maggie and my parents died? It was unbelievable. I could go out in public again, and not get arrested on the spot. I could be a normal person, have a life and have a job. I could be a psychologist, what I set out to be. I could move on.

Somehow, this all seemed too good to be true. I just had to ignore it, though. I was going to take any semblance of good fortune that came my way, regardless of the consequences. I've only had to deal with heartbreak and anger for the past 2 years. I finally caught up with karma.

Suddenly, Pamela came running in, grocery bags in her hands, "Harley, I just heard on the news! I'm so happy for you!" She dropped the bags onto the ground, and ran to me, embracing me tightly, exclaiming, "You can be yourself again!"

I laughed, thoroughly happy for once in my life, "I know! I _can_ be me again!"

Pamela pulled away, looked at me for a moment, and without any warning at all, kissed me.

My body went into shock for a split second. What the hell?! I pushed her away, "Pam! What the fuck was that?!"

Her face was completely red, "God, I'm so sorry, Harley! That…wasn't meant to happen."

I wiped my lips, "No kidding!"

"I'm sorry!" she repeated, her eyes starting to fill with tears, "I really am! It won't happen again!"

"Pam…" I just stared at her, "Are you…do you…like me…as more than a friend?"

Her silence pretty much answered it all.

I had always had the gut feeling. I had just pushed it to the back of the mind, saying that I was being stupid and reading into the friendship too much. But now…of course, I get good news and then my life gets complicated. That's just my luck, as usual.

"Pam, I…can't ever like you that way. You know that." I said, shaking my head, "I just can't."

"Why not?" she asked, "Why can't we try?"

"Because…God, I can't even believe I'm having this conversation!" I threw my hands up in the air, "Good Lord, Pam, I'm as straight as a god damn arrow! I thought when you said you gave up men, that you just didn't want to date them, not…oh, God." I shuddered.

"I'm already embarrassed enough. Just stop, Harley." Pamela fiercely wiped at her eyes, "I just thought you might want to give up on men, too, seeing as all of them have been disappointments."

"But I still believe in them!" I exclaimed, "I still want to find someone! I have my life back now, Pam! I can go meet somebody and move on with my life. I don't have to deal with heroes and villains and all that bullshit anymore! I can be a normal person!"

"You will never be normal." She snapped, "You're never going to find anyone, with them knowing your past and your affiliation with a convicted felon! They're going to think you're fricking insane!"

Her words stung, but I wouldn't dare show it, "Fuck you! I'm getting the hell out of this place. The Joker's in Arkham; Bruce doesn't want me anymore; I'm just going back to my penthouse and be rich and be a psychologist and not give a shit about you! I'm not your prisoner! And if you would, kindly GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY LIFE."

I then stormed out of the living room, leaving a stunned Pamela in my wake. I grabbed my suitcase, and packed whatever I had…which, well, wasn't much. It was only the clothes that Pam had bought me, some toiletries, and shoes. I zipped up the suitcase and saw Pam standing in my doorway.

"So, you're seriously leaving me?'

"Correction: I'm leaving this place. Not you. I never had any relationship with you. I thought we were friends, Pam. I thought we could be there for each other, but all you cared about was getting in my…" I shuddered again violently, "Ok, I'm just not going there."

I pushed past her, and made my way for the door, her following me, "Please don't leave, Harley! I will stop caring this way for you!"

I turned to face her, "No, you won't. I have to leave. That's the only way you'll stop caring about me. There is no other way in this world that you can get over these irrational feelings you have for me. Good-bye, Pamela."

I slammed the door behind me, and hit the button for the elevator. It opened with a ding, and I stepped inside. I saw Pam watching me.

I averted my eyes, and the doors closed, separating us.

…

When the taxi dropped me off in front of my apartment building, I had to stand there for a moment and just stare. It was a happy moment; don't get me wrong. It was just that I thought I would never see this place again.

I took a deep breath, and stepped inside. No one seemed to notice my entrance, or if they did, it didn't honestly matter to them. I went to the elevator, pressing the 'up' button.

I waited there, bouncing on the balls of my feet, like I always did when I was impatient or anxious. I just wanted to lie in my own bed again, feel like I was actually at home.

The elevator doors opened, and I pressed the button for Penthouse A.

A woman was there when the doors opened on that floor, apparently waiting for the elevator, too. It was Julia, my old neighbor. She was carrying the bundle that was their daughter, Margaret (or, well, Maggie for that matter). I glanced over at her, eyes narrowed contemptuously. This woman and her husband had sold me out to the police a few months back, causing me to flee to Bruce's and obviously the rest is history.

"Hello, Julia." I said politely, through gritted teeth.

"Hello, Harley." She replied, "I see you're no longer a fugitive."

"No, I am not." I said curtly.

"That's good for you. I hope you don't get mixed up in the wrong crowd again now that the Joker is in Arkham." Julia looked down as Maggie cooed and moved her hands about. Julia had such a genuine smile on her face at that moment; it brought tears to my eyes. I wanted to know what it was like to hold a baby that was my own.

"She's beautiful." I remarked, "She has your eyes."

Julia looked at me with surprise, like she hadn't guessed that I was capable of having a heart or something, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Are you going to be living here again?" she asked as I turned to walk away.

"Yes, I am. I'm going to get my job back again, and start living my life." I said confidently.

She smiled in a strange, secretive way, "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"What do you mean?" I snapped.

She shrugged in this very exasperating way, "Whatever you interpret that to mean. I have to go now; Maggie has a pediatrician appointment."

"You think you're so god damn smart, Julia, you and Kevin. Just remember that I know some very vital information about your past, and I might have to look up immigration in the phone book and give them a little warning…"

Her eyes widened, "You would not."

"I would." I said with the most sinister grin I could muster.

I stepped past her, and unlocked the door to my penthouse suite, closing the door behind me without any word to Julia. I was not going to pretend like we were friends; we were way past that ever happenings. Being cordial…I could do that, since we were neighbors after all.

Upon looking at my apartment, I dropped my bags on the floor in shock.

The police had torn the place apart, and had clearly never bothered to clean it up. It was going to take me a good few days to put it back together. I went into my bedroom, and saw that the bed was still unmade from when I had last been in it, and my clothing was all thrown onto the floor. I sighed deeply, and began to pick it up, folding it and putting it back in their respective drawers.

They hadn't been too careful with my glass objects, either. I gingerly picked up a picture frame, one that held a picture of Maggie and me at my graduation from grad school. I smiled at the memory. Maggie had been 18 when I graduated, and as per usual teenage behavior, she had bitched and moaned all the way to the ceremony. My parents told us to take the picture and pretend like we liked each other. What I remembered is that Maggie actually had put her arm around me in a sisterly fashion, squeezing it. She had whispered before my mom took the picture, "I'm really proud of you, Harley. But don't let anyone know I said that."

And I didn't tell anyone. Now I was beginning to wish that I had said it in return. I sat down on my bed, putting the picture down next to me. I finally let out the tears I had been holding in for the past day. I cried about losing my friendship with Pamela, I cried over the loss of Bruce, I cried over the fact that I could never tell my sister how proud I was of her at her own graduation. Most of all, my tears were almost joyous, of relief.

Everything was going to be alright now.

I wiped my tears away, refreshed and feeling like I had emptied all the bad feelings out of my system. I vowed to clean up this apartment, pull myself together, and go back to Arkham to get my job back.

It was going to be so strange, actually having a job again. Of course, I was never going to associate with the Joker again; that was imperative. I was going to thank him for what he did to me, but after that, all my connections to him were gone. I couldn't feel anything but pity for him, and treat him like the psychotic patient that he was when I first met him. I needed to let him be somebody else's problem now.

I knew that it was going to be hard to let go of everything that I had experienced with him. I had to deal with that on my own. I had been given a second chance, even if it was by the most unlikely source. I didn't intend to waste it by giving in to old habits.

Everything was actually (and finally!) going to be alright.


	12. Die to Know You Love Me

**A/N: This was a good chapter with a nice cliffhanger ending. Sorry about that. I'm so terrible. Hehe.**

**I don't own DC Comics affiliated characters.**

Chapter 12: Die to Know You Love Me

_Even though I'm the sacrifice,_

_You won't try for me, not now._

_Though I'd die to know you love me,_

_I'm all alone._

"_Missing," Evanescence_

It was like an out-of-body experience being outside Arkham Asylum again. Even after 2 years, I could still drive there on auto-pilot, remembering a time when this had just been my job and nothing else mattered. Oh, how times have changed for me.

I had bought a new car, by the way. A red Ferrari, almost exactly like the one I had before. I was feeling nostalgic at the time, so I do not regret the purchase. It's not like I didn't have another 50 million dollars in my bank account.

I parked in the visitor lot and stepped out of the car carefully; considering the rather high heels that I had chosen for this occasion.

I straightened my pencil skirt, and composed myself. I needed to pretend like my brain was in such a different place than it had been then. I bit my lip. This was going to be a little more difficult than I had anticipated. What if I just wasn't mentally prepared to take this job back? I had to be confident in my abilities as a psychiatrist. I was confident in those abilities, just not the lack of moral judgment I had seemed to develop in the last 2 years.

I shook all nay-saying thoughts out of my head as I walked toward the building. I scanned my visitor pass, and entered. I walked the familiar hallways to my boss's office. I stopped for a second. What if my boss wasn't even here anymore? No, that's stupid. I'm freaking out way too much for my own good right now.

Thankfully, he was still here, and still in the same office with exact same set-up as he had before. I rapped lightly on the open door, "Good morning."

"Dr. Quinzel," he smiled warmly, like he was actually glad that I was there, "Please have a seat."

"Sure," I said, and sat down primly in the chair, "It's a little odd…being back here."

"Well, it is a little odd having you back." He laughed.

"I'm sorry for what happened-" I began, and he held up a hand.

"That's in the past. People make bad judgment calls. It happens. I was so glad to find out that it had just been psychiatric drugs the whole time. I was worried that your morals were not intact."

Ok, well, what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

"Yeah, honestly, I don't really remember much after me and the Joker's third meeting." I lied quickly, "It's all a bit hazy. It was kind of like having some pulling the strings in my brain, making me do things against my will."

"I'm so sorry that that happened to you, Dr. Quinzel." He said sincerely, "Please consider it the fault of Arkham for putting you with a case you weren't prepared for."

"It's alright." I shrugged, "It was just a way of showing me what not to do with a patient. I imagine there are other professionals out there like me, who get too involved with their job and forget about everything else."

"Precisely." He nodded vigorously, "So, please let us accept the responsibility for the past, and let's start over."

"I would like that a lot." I smiled, and shook his hand. I knew that he was just spewing all this bullshit because he thought I was going to sue Arkham. I had to inwardly chuckle at that notion. The irony of that would just be too much.

"Good." He looked relieved, "Let me be the first to welcome you back to Arkham Asylum, Dr. Quinzel." His face suddenly turned serious, "I know that this is a little…inconvenient, but the Joker has been adamantly requesting that he see you as soon as you came in. I didn't really tell him yes or no on the matter, but…"

"I will see him." I said firmly, "But, just this one time. After this, I will not see him again; no matter how many times he begs you, pleads with you, tell him no. I refuse to be in his presence anymore."

"I understand completely." My boss said, and he gestured for me to follow him.

We walked down the familiar road to the criminally insane ward; this was the place they held the real psychopaths. High security, guarded at all times, completely locked up. This was killing him…yet I couldn't help but smile at the thought.

"Here is his room." My boss pointed ahead, "Call me if you need me."

"Will do, sir," I said, and confidently stepped forward. The guards opened the large steel door for me, and I entered the observation room. There was a thick layer of glass in-between me and his cell. I saw him sitting in the corner. It was very dark in there. What did it matter? He seemed to like the night just fine. I knocked on the glass.

"I'm here." I called out.

I felt like I was in a zoo or something, trying to get the attention of the sleeping lion.

He looked up at me with sunken eyes. I didn't think I was going to feel bad for him, but right now…my heart hurt a little to watch him come forward.

"Hello, Harley," he said, "I was under the impression that you were never going to come."

"You've only been in here 3 days." I said matter-of-factly.

"Really? I thought it had been like a week." He groaned, "This is going to be a long rest of my life."

"I'm…really grateful that you did this for me." I said. I couldn't quite express how I truly felt right now, "I…I really am. You gave me a second chance to be happy, after everything we've been through."

"Yeah, well, you deserve it, after what I did to you. I kind of ruined your life." He shrugged, "You're too good of a person to be a criminal."

"But I am a criminal," I sighed, "Everything I did was of my own accord."

"Shh, they don't know that!" he hissed, "Don't ruin this for yourself."

"Alright, alright," I said, placating him, "Why did you turn yourself in?"

"You know why."

"No, I don't. Tell me." I said, trying to be patient.

"I said, you know why." He repeated.

I was frustrated, "Tell me now before I start falling back into old habits."

"Think about it." He said with his signature smile.

Suddenly it came to me, "Pam. You knew about Pam. How did you know?"

"When I saw you two together, I knew something wasn't right. She looked at you with the same emotion I have always felt for you. I couldn't let her have you."

"I wasn't going to turn lesbian." I folded my arms across my chest, a little offended.

"Keep telling yourself that."

"Shut the fuck up. I'm as straight as a god damn arrow, Joker. You of all people should know that." I snapped.

"Ouch, honey." He feigned a stabbing motion to the heart.

"I'm not apologizing for what we did. That's over now. So, you basically did this to get me away from Pam?"

"Yes, in the simplest terms possible. I can't say I trusted Pam all that much, but she owed it to me. I thought she would take good care of you, just not in…that…way." He chuckled.

"We never did anything." I flushed, humiliated.

"That would have been kind of hot."

"You're a dick." I was now legitimately and certifiably pissed off, "Like I was going to turn lesbian just because Bruce left me…which was your fucking fault, by the way."

"How was that incident my fault?"

"If you hadn't taken my ring…"

"You shouldn't have been wearing it." He retorted.

"I will concede to that." I admitted, "But still…that ring was expensive and it meant a lot to Bruce. You're just selfish. You thought you could have me all to yourself. Fat chance of that ever happening now, Mr. J."

"That's an annoying nickname. Stop using it."

"Oh, please, and Princess isn't?" I pointed my finger at him accusingly, "You know how degrading it is to be called that. Now that you're out of my life, I think I will act like a god damn princess and do whatever the hell I want. I bought myself a nice car, like the one you demolished, and I am going to splurge on clothes and shoes. I am going to take myself out to fancy restaurants and date rich men who just want to get laid. I don't give a fuck anymore. I am going to go live that life you don't want from me, just to spite you."

"Fine, go ahead. Act like an idiot. I don't care."

"You're the idiot, turning yourself in for a lifetime of misery! I came here to settle things with you, but of course, silly me for thinking that this would be an amicable conversation! I'm leaving." I stood up in a huff, and headed for the door.

"Don't leave yet!" he called. He sounded pretty pitiful just then, so I had to turn around.

"Are we going to talk like adults?" I asked.

"I will do my best."

I probably should have just left then. Putting me and him together was extremely unproductive. But, like an idiot, I sat back down. I folded my arms across my chest, and then secretly prided myself in not wearing a low-cut shirt today.

"I'm listening." I said in the snottiest way that was humanly possible.

"I thought we were going to be adults."

"Screw it." I said shortly, "Sum up what you're going to say to me, and then I'm leaving."

"I guess I just wanted to say that I was sorry for what I did to you, and I hope that this makes up for it." He said, lifting up his hands, which were in shackles, "I did this for you, Harley. I hope someday you'll forgive me."

"That's never going to happen." I said, standing up, "This does make me feel better – a lot better – but it will never make up for the loss of my family. I'm going now. Enjoy your life contained here. You're never going to see me again."

"Wait, Harley! Wait!" He was calling, but I walked out of the room and slammed the door.

I nodded to the guards, "At ease, guys."

I strode down the hallway, fast, my high heels clacking against the tile. I found the nearest bathroom to me, walking the length of it, making sure that there was no one in the stalls. I then locked myself in the stall, and broke down crying.

I had no idea why I was crying. Maybe because I knew that he had doomed himself to this life because he wanted me to forgive him. I knew I couldn't. How could I? It would be ridiculous. Believe me; I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to be so unhappy that he wanted to die. Now that it was happening, it was bittersweet. I wasn't sure if this is what I actually wanted. I'm being stupid. I'm being really fucking stupid. I was free. Maybe I was crying because I was so relieved. I never thought that this day would come, and now that it was here, maybe I was just happy. I haven't been truly happy in a while, and now that I have it, I have no fucking idea what to do with it.

I am an idiot. I wiped my eyes, looking at myself in the bathroom mirror. My mascara had run unattractively down my cheek. I need to invest in water-proof. I wet a paper towel and wiped the make-up off my face. I looked pretty bad, but I had to get through this. I could go home and relax. I had just come in to take my job back, and get closure. I did that.

I stopped by my boss's office, and waved him good-bye, "Call me tomorrow with my schedule, ok?"

"Will do, Dr. Quinzel," he replied, and looked at me closely, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just a little emotional," I admitted, "I'm going home to rest."

"I understand. Start on Wednesday if you want. Take a couple days off until you're ready."

"Thank you so much for being sympathetic." I said, meaning it.

"It's not a problem."

"Alright, good-bye, sir," I then left Arkham and got into my car. I had the top down since it was a beautiful August day. I drove around for a while to clear my head, and then went back into Gotham.

I arrived at my apartment building, and parked my car in the building's garage. I wobbled on my high heels a little, shaky from the events that had just happened. I needed a drink or something. I never really drank, but this seemed the time for it.

I went into my penthouse, sighing contentedly as I kicked off my shoes and headed for the fridge. I took out a wine cooler, sat on my couch, and took a sip. I closed my eyes for a moment, taking all of it in. I could just sit here and do nothing. I didn't have to worry about being a fugitive and running for my life. Ah, that was nice.

As I opened my eyes, I noticed that my answering machine light was blinking. I stood up stiffly, and meandered over to it. I pressed in the code.

"1 unheard message from…" the stilted robotic voice said, "Bruce Wayne cell."

…


	13. Kiss Me or Just Leave Me

**A/N: Cranked another one for you. **

**I don't own DC Comics affiliated characters. **

Chapter 13: Kiss Me or Just Leave Me

_I know it's mad, but if I go to hell_

_Will you come with me or just leave?_

_I know it's mad, but if the world were ending_

_Would you kiss me or just leave me?_

_Just leave me_

"_Do You Know What I'm Seeing?," Panic at the Disco _

"Do you wish to hear message? Press 1 to listen to unheard message or press 7 to delete unheard message."

I stared at the answering machine in disbelief. What could he possibly want from me? It had been over a month since we had spoken to each other.

I couldn't contain myself. I pressed the '1' key on the machine.

"Hey, Harley, it's me…Bruce. Um…so I know I left on a really bad note, and I have taken some time to think about what is going on, and I really want to have dinner and talk about it. If you're too mad at me to come, just don't call me back, but…I really hope you do. I miss you, and I can still love you if you'll let me. Hope to talk to you soon, Harley." The message ended there.

"Do you wish to delete message? Press 1 for yes and 2 for no." I pressed the '2' key.

I picked up the phone, fingers poised and ready to dial his number.

No. I couldn't yet. That would be too easy. I would wait. I would let him suffer a bit before I called him back. Let him simmer on that.

Yeah…oh wait, fuck it.

I dialed his number quickly, and waited as it rang once, twice, three times, four times, five…

"Hello?"

"Hi, Bruce," I said somewhat awkwardly.

"Harley," he sounded relieved, "I thought you weren't going to call me back."

"I almost didn't."

"I don't blame you." He sighed, "I left things with us a fucked-up mess. I'm so sorry."

"I'm not sure if I forgive you just yet, Bruce." I said. It was the truth, "I do miss you, but I don't think we should rush into anything again."

"I totally agree." He said, "I completely understand why you wouldn't want to. I think we should just have dinner. Is that ok?"

"I can do dinner." I said, smiling a little, "When would you like to meet up?"

"Friday at…" he sounded as if he was shuffling some papers, probably his calendar or something, "Is 8 o'clock ok?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

"I will pick you up."

"I do have a car now." I said.

"I'm glad." He laughed, "Is it a red Ferrari?"

"What else would it be?"

"Regardless, Harley, I'm picking you up." He said firmly, "I owe it to you after how I treated you."

I chuckled, "Alright, alright. I will see you Friday."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Me, too, Bruce," I said warmly.

"Ok, well, I've got a meeting in like 5 minutes, so I will call you on Friday before I leave my house. Bye, Harley."

"Good-bye, Bruce," We both hung up.

I collapsed on my couch, and let out the breath that I had been holding the entire conversation. I had been worried that it would be really uncomfortable, but honestly, it felt like nothing had changed between us. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. I wanted it to be a good thing, but it felt wrong, somehow. Why didn't I get angry at him? I deserved to. He was the one who screamed at me and slammed the door in my face just for a simple accident. Well, maybe everything changed for him because the Joker is in Arkham and not a threat to him anymore. Now like he was a threat in the first place…right? Was that why Bruce was so angry? Because he thought I felt something for the Joker? Men are so dumb. Bruce knew what happened between me and the Joker, and that it didn't mean anything to me now.

I guess I could see where he was coming from. I would pretty damn jealous if some girl that Bruce had slept with kept trying to get back in his life, and I couldn't do anything about it. Maybe Bruce hadn't talked to me for this long because he was trying to catch the Joker. It made sense, but I couldn't keep dwelling on it. I needed to just wait for Bruce to explain himself. I'm sure his reasoning was going to be pretty illogical, but that's just the way he thought. He is a pretty impulsive person who acts with his feelings and not his head. I'm just the opposite…most of the time. The Joker seemed to evoke my spontaneous side, which I hated. I hated spur of the moment things. I am organized and predictable, and that's the way I want to be. I'm better off being that way. I'm better off not being what he wanted, which was being Harley Quinn.

…

It was Friday. I had gone to work the last 2 days, mostly filling out paperwork, doing routine mental examinations, the usual. I felt like everything was going so slowly, and I understood that they thought I was damaged or something, but paperwork was just torture. I had joined the profession to talk to people. My boss told me that he was going to assign me a schizophrenic on Monday, and I left feeling rather satisfied.

Ok, I'm a twisted bitch.

Oh well.

I got home from work around 4, and ate a snack, knowing that I would have a later dinner. As I stood there in my kitchen, halfway through a pack of Combos, I felt a grip of panic. What the hell were Bruce and I going to talk about? Was this going to be terribly and painfully awkward? God help me.

I took a couple of deep breaths, and tried to calm myself down. I was getting myself way too worked up over absolutely nothing. It was just Bruce. It could be a wonderful date and we could continue from where we left off. Yeah, I wasn't expecting any engagement ring anytime soon, but we could be happy again.

I pulled out a new dress that I had bought for the occasion. Hey, I have unlimited money; why not shop? It was slinky black dress, strapless and hugged my body in all the right places. I looked pretty damn good, if I had to say so myself. I turned in the mirror a few times, making sure that the dress wasn't creasing in an unattractive way, but everything was perfect. I checked my phone. 7:57 PM. He should be getting here any minute. Bruce was a very prompt person; I always liked that about him, being a Type A personality.

Suddenly, my cell started vibrating. It was Bruce. I picked up, "Hello?"

"I'm heading up the elevator."

"You didn't have to come inside."

"I wanted to escort you out." He insisted.

"Oh, geez, fine," I said in mock concession.

"See you in a minute."

"Ok, bye," we both hung up, and I hurried as fast as my 3-inch heels could take me into the living room. I got to the door just as the buzzer rang.

I fixed my hair for a moment, wasted a little time, pretending like I was doing something more important than opening the door…although I'm not sure what the hell would be that important. Sometimes women's brains are beyond me.

I made a miserable attempt at casually opening the door, but my heart was racing in my chest, "Good evening, Mr. Wayne."

"Miss Quinzel," his eyes widened, looking me up and down, "Looking like a million dollars, as usual."

"Actually, it cost a grand, but I'll take a million." I grinned.

"God, I've missed you." He leaned forward, and embraced me warmly.

I embraced him back, smiling from the inside out. It felt good to be in his arms again, and to feel safe and happy. Honestly, you never know what you have until it's gone.

Bruce's hands shifted a little lower, and I backed away, teasing, "Woah, we haven't even gone to dinner yet!"

"Let's skip dinner. You look too good in that dress." He had that look men get when they are only thinking about sex and the words coming out of your mouth are in Swahili.

"I bought this dress for the purpose of dinner, so we are going out." I said matter-of-factly, "Get your ass down to that limo."

"Oh, fine," he rolled his eyes, but was smiling all the while, "We don't want to be late for the reservation."

We went into the hallway, and I locked the door behind me, "Where are we going, anyway?"

"The Plaza," he said.

"But you own the Plaza," I pointed out, "Why would give away your reservation?"

"Oh yeah, I do own that place." Bruce said as if it was a sudden revelation, "I forget how many restaurants I own sometimes."

"That must be nice." I laughed, pressing the down button on the elevator, "I wish I could remember to put my shoe on the correct foot in the morning."

"You're not spacey."

"You flatter me. My father used to say that I would forget my own head if it wasn't attached to my neck." I said, feeling a little sad for a moment, knowing that I would never hear him say that again. I knew it shouldn't have been that painful to talk about my parents; it was over a year ago now. Yet, it was still very difficult. They had died so suddenly and way before their time.

Bruce squeezed my shoulder, "I know you miss them."

"I do." I leaned into him, "I shouldn't be so whiny about it. You barely knew your parents when they died."

"Be as whiny as you need to, because I know I am." He reassured me.

The elevator doors opened, and we stepped inside. As the elevator went down the 28 flights to the lobby level in complete silence, Bruce slowly reached over and took my hand. I grasped onto it tightly, knowing at that moment that I would never let him go again, whatever it took.

We went into the lobby, and smiled secretively at each other after we got a few glances from the staff and other people in the building. Seeing Bruce Wayne was not exactly common; he was something like a celebrity.

We walked outside, and got into Bruce's town-car. Bruce signaled the driver to go, and we were off to the Plaza. Bruce rolled up the privacy window in the car, because both of us knew from experience that his driver was the nosiest person on earth.

"You haven't fired him yet?" I whispered.

"The only other people that have applied have been aging taxi drivers. At least when Randy drives I'm not afraid for my life or my wallet." Bruce replied in a similar fashion.

I chuckled softly, and he put his arm around my shoulder. I snuggled into it, as I always did. Was I letting him off way too easy? I mean, the guy hadn't called me in like a month and now he was acting like nothing had even happened. Then again, my life was complicated enough without dealing with break-ups and hook-ups. I was happy to have him back, and somehow what had happened before wasn't really that important now.

He kissed the top of my head, "This is nice."

"Yeah, it is."

"I've missed you so much, Harley. I don't know what I was thinking that day." He said, sighing, "I don't know why I got so angry."

"I don't exactly blame you. I put our relationship in jeopardy, and I lost your beautiful ring." I said, playing with his fingers, "I still feel like a shit-head for doing that."

"I asked you to wear it. I made you put yourself at risk, and I'm really sorry for that." He insisted, "I should have been a better fiancé."

"You were the perfect fiancé." I smiled up at him.

"Were? Are you indicating past tense?" he asked, cocking his head, puzzled.

"I just thought…you didn't want to be…anymore." I said, my voice trailing off.

"I still do."

"Well, so do I." he said, and he reached forward into a compartment inside the car, revealing a black velvet ring box.

"Are you kidding me?" I sat up straight, completely in disbelief.

"No, I'm not. I still love you, and I still want to marry you. Will you accept this ring?" he opened the box, and it was a ring that was just as lovely – if not lovelier – than the one before.

"Oh, I will, Bruce, I will." I nodded vehemently, and stuck my hand out.

"Wait one minute." He said, pulling back slightly, "You have to promise that you're not going to let an evil mastermind take this one."

I laughed for a minute, but after realizing he was serious, coughed my laughter away, "Yes, absolutely. I will not lose this one."

"Ok, good." Bruce grinned, and slipped the ring on my finger. He kissed me deeply, holding me close, "I love you."

"I love you, too." I stared down at the ring, "You have outdone yourself."

"I try." He looked rather pleased.

…

The next thing I knew, it was midnight, and the two of us were stumbling into my apartment, both a little tipsy from a bottle of champagne, laughing all the while. I shut the door behind me, and suddenly Bruce picked me up, honey-moon style, and lay me down on the couch, kissing me with a passion that I hadn't felt in such a long time.

"Are you alright?" I asked as he threw off his suit coat.

"Yes, just really happy to be back with you." He said, and helped me out of my dress.

I smiled, "Me, too."

We made love on the couch, not even bothering to make the 10-foot walk into my bedroom. I lay on top of him, sweating a little from the heat of the apartment and of the moment in general.

"That was good." I breathed.

"Oh yeah," he agreed in the same speechless tone.

I kissed him lightly, and rolled over next to him. He pulled the blanket up to our chests, and we cuddled in silence for a few minutes.

"Do you want to hear something funny?" I asked.

He stroked my hair, "Sure, why not?"

"I don't know if you're going to like it." I said apprehensively, "But I feel like I have to tell you about it."

He looked concerned, "What happened, babe?"

"Oh, nothing bad, I promise. It's just interesting." I said.

"Well, spit it out. I'm dying of suspense over here."

I laughed, shoving his shoulder playfully, "Well, do you want to know the reason that I moved out of Pam's?"

"Well, I thought it was because you got your job back and you weren't a fugitive anymore." He said matter-of-factly.

"That was partly the reason." I said, "But the other part was that…Pam told me that she was in love with me."

Bruce sat there for a moment, looking very pensive, "Are you serious?"

"Yes," my heart was beating fast; I wasn't sure how he was going to take it.

After a little more time, Bruce began to laugh really hard, "Oh, wow, that's ridiculous!"

I relaxed, and giggled with him, "I know."

"Hey, let's call her up and I can watch you two make out!" he was doubled over with laughter now, "That would be awesome!"

"Oh, ha ha, Mr. Wayne. That's never happening." I rolled my eyes, "I thought you would be mad."

"No, not at all," he said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, "I'm not mad at all, Harley. It's just really weird. I would never have pegged Poison Ivy for a lesbian."

"Yeah, me either." I said dryly.

He embraced me, "Oh, my poor baby. What did she do?"

"Kiss me…er, kind of kiss me. I backed away pretty damn fast."

"Wow, that is sufficiently awkward." He admitted.

"You're telling me." I shook my head, "I'm still scarred for life."

"Well…" he kissed my neck, "Perhaps making love with a real man a few times will make up for it?"

"Perhaps it will." I said, grinning.

…


	14. Young and Naive

**A/N: Sorry for the long lapse in updating. I am currently in Granada, Spain studying abroad for school, but I've been hard at work trying to finish this story. Another chapter will be forthcoming in the next week or so, I think. Enjoy, R&R, and I don't own DC Comics characters.**

Chapter 14: Young and Naive

_When blood and youth were warmer_

_We breathed summer like the sweet air_

_We found each other like a mirror_

_We were so optimistic; wasn't it so easy to be?_

_We were young and naïve_

"_Eileen," The Hush Sound_

Bruce left in the morning, and I was left alone with my thoughts. Everything just seemed to happen so fast. I didn't think I would take Bruce back so quickly, but what's done is done. We were engaged yet again, and everything was going to be so much better than before.

I was on Cloud 9 all weekend, and was really disappointed that I had to go to work on Monday. Then again, now that I thought about it, why was I going to work in the first place? I did have oodles of money at my disposal…but on the other hand, I needed something to do.

I went to work with a smile on my face, and ready to begin a new day. When I pulled up to Arkham Asylum, however, my mood very rapidly changed. The place was basically on complete lock-down. There was Gotham police department cars at every entrance, and people running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Well, this could not be good whatsoever.

I looked around for my boss, or at least someone that I worked with. Finally, I saw one of the other psychiatrists, Tammy, talking to a police officer a few feet away. I walked quickly (as quickly as I could in 3-inch heels) over to her, "Tammy?"

"Harley," she turned to face me.

"What's going on? Has there been a break?"

"Yes, unfortunately there has." She bit her lip, "And I'm pretty sure it won't be good news for you."

My blood ran cold; my heart sank deep into my chest, "Oh, God."

"I know." She grasped my hand, "They're going to send cops to your building to monitor it 24/7. They are pretty sure that he will end up there eventually. Do you have someone to stay with you in case of an emergency?"

"Yeah, I do." I said, and excused myself from Tammy. I dialed Bruce's number, and waited for him pick up.

"Geez, miss me already?" he answered cheerfully.

"Bruce." I said solemnly.

His tone changed immediately, "What's the matter?"

"The Joker escaped from Arkham last night." I said, massaging my temples, "Just what I needed, right? I knew all of this was too good to be true."

"Well, I will take off of work the next few days. Lucius can take care of everything until I know that you're safe." Bruce said, and I heard the sound of papers rustling in the background, "Stay in the Arkham parking lot. I will pick you up."

"Alright, thanks, babe. See you soon." I hung up. I stood there for a moment, feeling a cold chill pass through me. The Joker had something up his sleeve. I knew it all along. He wouldn't go so willingly to Arkham like this. He wasn't selfless. I should have known better. I dropped my guard, and now this. I am such an idiot.

"You won't be safe forever, Harley Quinn." A voice said from behind me. I swiveled around. I knew that voice anywhere. I saw nothing; just the entrance to the forest preserve behind me.

"No, it's you that will never be safe." I said under my breath.

…

Bruce took me home, and had apparently taken some sort of vow that he wasn't going to let me out of his sight. While this was romantic and all, it was rather annoying to have him stand outside my bathroom while I was trying to do my personal business, and having him watch me make my pathetic attempts at cooking macaroni and cheese.

"Hey, Bruce, go sit on the couch." I pointed to the living room area.

"No, I have to watch you."

"I'm 10 feet away. Sit on the couch before I smack you with this frying pan." I wielded it like some type of warrior princess, "I mean it."

"Oh, fine, if you're going to be that way." He promptly sat on the couch and turned on the news.

I hummed a tune that I didn't know name of as I cooked in peace, and brought over the bowls of macaroni and cheese and some drinks.

On the television, the Joker's mug shot flashed across the screen, and the reporter began to speak, "Breaking news: The Joker escaped from Arkham last night, and police are trying to scan all security tapes to figure out how and when the notorious criminal managed to pull a Houdini yet again. Police do not suspect his previous known accomplice, Harleen Quinzel, of any wrongdoings because she had a tight alibi that she was home all night with her fiancé, billionaire Bruce Wayne. The police have some evidence that the Joker escaped into the woods outside the asylum, and could possibly be hiding out there. They have sent dogs and search parties, but so far, the search has not been a success. Please stay tuned for more details as the story continues."

"I don't understand, Bruce," I sighed, "He was finally off my back. Of course, now he wants to ruin my life again."

"He just can't stand to you happy with someone else, Harley. That's the bottom line."

I sat back against the couch, "Why did it have to be me?"

"I suppose you were the easiest target." Bruce shrugged, "You were right there all the time for him."

"Wrong place at the very, very wrong time," I affirmed.

"Yeah, that sums it up."

"Ugh," I groaned, "I forever have to run from him. I thought I was done running and done being Harley Quinn."

"Well, I'll never really be done being Batman." Bruce mused, "You can't forget a part of your life just like that."

"I know, but…I wanted to start over and just get married to you, be happy. Now if we even want to get married, it's going to have to be a total secret. I have a feeling he'd find out about it anyway." I said, standing up. I took Bruce's bowl and cup, and he followed me into the kitchen.

"We could do it at my house. I could just call a priest to officiate. It wouldn't be too difficult." Bruce said.

"Still, the priest could somehow be under his employ. You honestly never know with him."

"A priest, Harley? Come on." Bruce snorted derisively.

"Stranger things have happened."

"Ok, fine, you know him better than I do, but Harley…we could do it, just like that. We could get out of here; go to the Bahamas for a while or something. He'd never know."

"See, that's the thing – he would. He has his ways. You don't understand, Bruce. He's got connections everywhere we go. I don't want to do anything that will draw attention to our situation. He hates you. It was kind of obvious once he tried to kill you." I washed the dishes absent-mindedly, "And now I wouldn't doubt that he'd try to kill us both this time."

"Let's risk it; I will get him. I will." Bruce assured me.

"I'm scared for us, Bruce! Don't you get that?" I turned to face him, almost throwing dish water in his eyes, "And you want us to deliberately defy him!"

"He's not someone you have to answer to, Harley!" Bruce snapped.

I stopped for a moment, contemplating this, "You know what, Bruce? You're right. I don't have to answer to him. I don't owe him anything. I don't want to spare his feelings."

Bruce smiled, "There you go. Let's get married."

"When?"

"Saturday; I will call Alfred and have him send over the limo. I will call a priest to meet us there, and we will get married." Bruce clasped my hands, "No one will know. And once the Joker is dead, we can have a huge, beautiful wedding; as lavish as you want. I promise."

I embraced him, "You're so wonderful."

"No, you are." He grinned, "I will protect you from anything that comes your way. That is why I want to be your husband. I want to be with you forever, and although most husbands don't have to kill psychotic ex's…"

I gave him a dead-pan stare.

"Just saying…I will do anything for you." Bruce kissed me firmly.

"And I will do anything for you." I said reassuringly.

"Alright, now that that's settled, let's crack a bottle of champagne." Bruce said, promptly rummaging through my cabinets.

I laughed, "You just want to make love, don't you?"

"Well, of course. Is that a crime?"

"If it is, then call me guilty."

…

It was a bright, sunny Thursday afternoon; 3 days till our wedding. I was lounging about on the couch while Bruce slept off his hang-over in my bedroom. It was very peaceful, reading my People magazine and enjoying the sunlight streaming through my window.

Suddenly, I heard the buzz of my intercom. I was on high alert for a moment, but then thought about it. The Joker wouldn't just ring my doorbell. That would be too simple, even for him. I walked over to the intercom as it buzzed once more, and pressed the button, asking cautiously, "Hello?"

"Harley, it's Pam. Can I talk to you?" Pamela's distressed voice echoed throughout the living room. It had been almost a month since I had seen or heard from her. I thought our friendship had been long since cut off, but I guess not.

I sighed, and said, "Yeah, I'll let you in. Penthouse A, 63rd floor."

"Thanks," she replied.

I pressed the 'open lobby door' button and waited on my couch. I was worried, understandably. Pamela disappears for that long and then expects to see me like we're best friends again? Why did I attract the most complicated, glaringly flawed individuals? What did I do?

Soon enough, there was a knock my door. I opened it to find Pamela, clothed in a green summer dress, her trademark color, as always. She looked at me with sad, weary eyes that had clearly seen hell and back, "Hi, Harley."

"Hi," I said awkwardly. I closed the door behind her, "What's up?"

She sat down on my couch primly, "I miss you."

Oh, fuck this.

"Well, you brought that on yourself." I said, folding my arms across my chest.

"You blame me for loving you?"

"You knew I wasn't like that, Pam." I didn't make a move to sit next to her. I knew that was what she wanted, but I thought it best to keep as much distance between us as possible.

"I thought you might change." She shrugged, "I still care about you."

"And I do about you – as a friend. As I always did. You were the one who had to let your feelings get in the way."

"Why do you want to hurt me so much?" Pam's eyes filled with tears, "After all we went through together? I saved you."

"To save your own ass," I retorted, "You were working for him that whole time. You didn't give a shit about me."

"Not at first," she admitted, "But, I could see why the Joker loved you so much."

"Oh, really? Enlighten me." I snapped.

"You're such a kind person, so willing to help people. You are optimistic, and at the same time, realistic and blunt. You let people see who they really are, whether they like it or not. Smart, incredibly beautiful…should I go on?"

"No, don't." I was feeling disgusted. I opened my mouth to speak again, but instead saw a shirtless, sleepy-eyed Bruce in the doorway.

"Harley, what's going on?" he glanced over at Pam, "What the hell are you doing here, Ivy?"

"I could ask the same of you." She glared at him.

"Bruce and I are engaged again." I said, crossing the room to stand by him. He put his arm around me in a protective measure.

Pamela's eyes flashed with rage, "I thought he dumped you?"

"I saw the error of my ways." Bruce said curtly, "I think that you should leave."

"Well, I could, but my purpose here is to warn Harley that the Joker is indeed alive and he is hiding out safely somewhere. I won't disclose the place, since I can't under strict orders, but…he is going to come for you, Harley. He hasn't given up on making you his again. As much as it pains me to say, he will love you more than Bruce ever will." Pamela clenched her fists, "I think you should just come with me and make this as painless as possible."

My blood boiled in my veins, "Get the fuck out of my house."

"Harley, please…" Pamela's eyes widened.

"No. You don't get to plead with me." I broke away from Bruce, "You don't get that privilege! You can take this message to him: Come fucking find me. I will tear him limb from limb, I will make him wish he never met me. I will rip him apart and throw the pieces over the river! I WILL KILL HIM!"

Bruce restrained me, but I fought against him, "He's going to wish he'd never loved me at all! I HATE HIM! TELL HIM THAT I HATE HIM!"

Pamela backed away, "Ok, fine. I see that you're angry. I will leave. I'm sorry that I had to tell you this and make you so upset."

"Yeah, leaving would be a great idea." Bruce said, and steered Pamela toward the door, at the same time, holding me back.

Pamela left, giving me one last lingering look, and closed the door.

I was seething; my face was red, and I was shaking uncontrollably, "How could she come here, Bruce? How could she do that to me?"

"Calm down, sweetheart." He led me to the couch, sitting me down. He held me, stroking my back, "Everything will be alright."

"You better hope so." I said grimly, "Now he knows that we're back together."

"I'm sure he already knew." Bruce sighed, "As you said, he has his ways of knowing these things."

"Why does everything have to be so complicated?" I buried my face in my hands, "Bruce, I just want everything to be like it was before. I want to be happy. I want to be with my family and to see all of them smile at me again. I want to laugh with them, and argue with them. I want my life to be normal!"

"Harley, that part of your life is long over, and you have to come to terms with that on your own. You gave up everything you had for him, and you have to suffer the consequences of your actions. I wish I could turn back time and spend time with my parents, but that just wasn't the card I was dealt. You just have to keep moving, and keep their memory alive every day." Bruce held as I sobbed into his shoulder for a while.

Finally, I sat up, wiping the tears from my eyes, "You're right. I'm just feeling sorry for myself. I just wasn't expecting Pam to come barging in here and ruin our happiness again."

"Maybe we should just go to my house." Bruce suggested.

"You think so?" I looked up at him, "I'm scared to leave. It's more dangerous when we're on the move."

"No, I think we'll be ok. I'll send for my company driver." He picked up his cell, and pressed a number on his speed dial.

"You have your driver on speed dial? That's kind of pathetic." I giggled a little.

"I don't have time for friends." Bruce flushed, and he looked attentive as his driver picked up the phone, "Hey, I'm over at Harley's building. Come get us in half an hour and take us back to Wayne Manor." He then hung up the cell, and glanced at me, "You'd better pack."

"Oh, yeah, that would be a good idea." I said with sudden realization.

…

We arrived at Wayne Manor later that afternoon, and had a nice, quiet dinner. We decided to go up to Bruce's master bedroom and watch some movies to ease our anxiety. So far, everything had gone smoothly, but Bruce and I were always on alert, as we were trained to be over the past few years of our lives.

Alfred brought us up some popcorn, and we shared it as we watched Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace.

"I really still don't understand the importance of Jar-Jar in this movie. He's kind of ineffective." I remarked.

"I think they were just showing off their CGI effects, to be honest." Bruce agreed, "And the fact that Watto talks like an aging Italian mobster is sort of ridiculous, too."

"Have I mentioned that I love you?" I asked, looking fondly up at him.

"Maybe a few times," he smiled back at me.

I snuggled against him, "I hope we can be this happy forever, Bruce."

"I'm sure we will be, Harley."

If only we could have foreseen the future in this moment. If only we could prepare ourselves for what was about to transpire. If only we could treasure these moments we had together. Sadly, neither of us knew what the future would bring. And I can only say that even if I had known, I don't know how I would be able to prevent it.


	15. The Pantomime

**A/N: I like ending chapters with cliffhangers. I have become that which I hate the most...haha! I'm sorry to say it, but there's only 2 or 3 chapters left of this installment...sad face.  
Anyone who reviews, please tell me if you'd like a 4th part to the story. I was thinking another trilogy of their lives as criminals. It's a possibility right now, but I need opinions. Thanks!**

**I don't own DC Comics characters.**

Chapter 15: The Pantomime

_Empty spaces, what are we waiting for_

_Abandoned places, I guess we know the score_

_On and on, does anybody know what we are looking for?_

_Another hero, another mindless crime_

_Behind the curtain, in the pantomime_

_Hold the line; does anybody want to take it anymore?_

"_The Show Must Go On," Queen_

Our preparations for the wedding went off without a hitch. I suppose we should have been suspicious of the silence in our lives, but we couldn't complain. We desperately wanted everything to go well. We invited no one but a solitary minister, and Alfred, of course.

It was the day before the wedding, and while Bruce and I were watching some pointless reality show on TV, he abruptly turned it off.

I turned to face him, "What's up?"

"I want to show you something." He stood up, and gestured for me to follow him.

I obliged, curious to see what had gotten into him. Bruce was usually quite predictable and not the secretive type (well, with me, at least).

He led me through a series of labyrinthine hallways, and finally to the upper wing of the manor, where there was a corridor I had never seen before. He stopped in front of a door at the end of the corridor, and looked at me, "This was my parents' room."

"Oh, Bruce…" I bit my lip, "Are you sure you want to go in there?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I've let Alfred go in there to do some cleaning over the years. I just found it too painful before, but now I have a purpose for being in there." He said. I could see that he was shaking a little, and I held his hand, squeezing it tightly.

"I'm here." I said softly.

"I know," He smiled sadly at me, "But I wish they were, too, for this moment."

I cocked my head, puzzled. He had already given me a ring; clearly he didn't intend to give me his mother's ring or anything of that nature.

"I wish mine were, too." I said, just thinking of them right then, how they wouldn't get to see me walk down the aisle to the man I loved. I got a little teary-eyed for a moment, but shook it off. I needed to be strong for both of us right now.

He opened the door slowly, and we stepped inside. It was a very well-decorated room; a four-poster king-sized bed, a lot of living space, and a huge window with a balcony that overlooked the entire Wayne Manor property and its gardens. The room was a bit dusty after all the years of disuse. It was pretty creepy, to be honest. I felt like I was intruding on their space. I felt like their spirits were watching us, but not in a malicious way. My belief in the supernatural had increased after the death of my family. However, Maggie's spirit was at peace now, and I got better night's sleep these days.

I told no one about seeing her; I felt like that would be just too strange for anyone to understand, even Bruce. Maybe I would tell him someday.

Bruce suddenly went under the bed, and pulled out a very dusty cardboard box. He blew the dust off the top, and set it on the bed. I stood at the edge of the bed, not wanting to overstep my boundaries in this situation.

Bruce opened the box, and pulled out something encased in plastic. He undid the zipper on the plastic, and revealed something white and made of satin.

I gasped audibly, "Bruce, no…I couldn't."

"I want you to." He said, smiling.

"But, it's your mother's…I didn't even know her."

"She would have wanted this." He handed it to me, "Please wear it for me."

"Oh, I will." I felt the soft satin of the gown. It was rather beautiful; very antique lace with a long sleeves, buttons all up and down the sleeves and bodice.

"It was my grandmother's, too." Bruce continued, "You can fit it on later, and I'll have Alfred fix it up wherever you need it."

"Alright," I was totally speechless. This meant so much to me. It meant that Bruce really trusted me and accepted me into his life. It dawned on me that I never wanted to break his heart again, never do anything to hurt him.

I embraced him tightly, "I will do your mother proud."

"I'm glad to hear it." Bruce smiled. I could see him a wipe a small tear from his eye, "Ok, go try it on. We don't have much time to lose."

"Of course." I kissed him gently, "Thank you again for providing me with this honor. I know I will never do it justice like your mother did, but I will do my best."

"I know you will." He said, "I love you, Harley."

"I love you too, Bruce."

…

I faced myself in the mirror, feeling a bit strange in this gown. I felt like the gown was wearing me. I saw myself in a new light, in a way. I looked like a bride in one of those sepia-toned photos, with her somber face and pallid complexion. What would my life become after this wedding? Would I stop living the way I did right now?

I shook my head, trying to clear it from the nagging thoughts. I heard a knock at the door.

"Come in!" I called.

Alfred poked his head in the room, "Are you done getting ready, Miss Quinzel?"

"Yes, I'm decent." I smiled.

"Alright, good…I'm just going to take some measurements." He walked over to me, and put a tape measure up to the sleeves, which were slightly long, considering my body being quite petite; the same with the hem at the bottom of the gown.

"You do it fine justice." Alfred said with a faraway smile, "I remember when the young Mrs. Wayne wore this. Such a beautiful wedding, it was."

"Oh, you were there?" It just had never occurred to me how old Alfred actually was.

"Oh yes, I was. I was Mr. Wayne's servant long before Mrs. Wayne came along. They were very good people. I think they would have liked you." Alfred patted my shoulder, "Don't you fret about that. They may have been very wealthy, but they had morals, too. It's really too bad that they were cut down so early in life."

"I feel Bruce's pain." I said quietly.

"It is a shame that you lost your family as well, Miss Quinzel, and in such a short time. You are a very strong young woman, to have dealt with the loss so extraordinarily."

"It's not as easy as it looks." I said, taking off the antique veil carefully, and handing it to Alfred, "I deal with my grief internally, I guess."

"It isn't always a bad thing to do so." Alfred nodded, "However, you must not hold everything inside for too long. It will come out eventually, and it won't be as pleasant when it does."

I sat on this statement for a moment. What exactly did he mean by that? Did Alfred, in his wise ways, sense my insecurities?

"You must give me the dress soon, Miss Quinzel, if you wish it to be done by tomorrow evening." Alfred broke the silence.

"Oh, man, sorry, Alfred." I said, flushing. He exited the room, and I took off the dress, got re-dressed, and walked back outside into the corridor.

I handed the dress over, "I know you'll make it stunning."

"No, that's your job, miss." He said with a little twinkle in his eye.

Or maybe I was just imagining that. There was a lot of dust in that hallway…

…

As I lay in bed that night, Bruce snoring softly next to me, I couldn't sleep. I was nervous. I was anxious. Worst of all, I was worried. I was worried that my worst fears would come true. I was worried that something was going to go horribly and fatally wrong.

Bruce loved me so much that he was willing to risk life and limb (though not necessarily in that order) for me. He was dedicated; I gave him that much.

I looked over at him, sleeping so peacefully. I wondered how he could do that, knowing that tomorrow could be the end of us. The Joker was going to get his revenge somehow, and let's be frank: Bruce and I's wedding would be the most convenient place to do that. It would also be the most heart-breaking. I didn't know what he would do if he came, actually. Would he kill me? Would he kill Bruce? Or would do the Romeo and Juliet and have us die together?

This is way too morbid.

I am over-thinking this. Or…really…was I under-playing it?

I couldn't regret this now. It was too late for that. I can't regret being back with Bruce, I can't regret treating Pamela the way I did. Looking back on that, I knew it was wrong of me. She still cared about me, but that may have turned her against me completely. I wouldn't blame her. All she ever did was love me…that concept is still too weird to think about, even now. I did care about Pam; she could have been the best friend I'd ever known.

My life had been so boring before, and one event changed everything forever. I have been a respected a psychologist, an accomplice to murder, a wanted fugitive, and now soon to be a wife. I've played many roles; I've been the pawn, the leader, the lover, and the friend. Sadly, I have never been myself throughout all of it.

What would my parents think of me? They would be ashamed of what I've done. The pathetic part of it is that I can't explain why I did these things. Was it to survive, to make a mark? All I knew is that it was of my own volition. I can't pretend that I didn't like the power just a little.

I was going to change my life drastically for Bruce.

The question was…am I really ready to do that?


	16. Trust Nobody

**A/N: I did another one for all you amazing readers of mine! Enjoy! Only 2 chapters left. **

**I don't own DC Comics characters.**

Chapter 16: Trust Nobody

_If I say who I know, it just goes to show_

_You need me less than I need you_

_But take it from me, we don't give sympathy_

_If you trust me, trust nobody_

"_Trust Me", The Fray_

I didn't sleep much that night. I tried…I really did. I just kept staring at the ceiling, feeling utterly lost in my own body. I knew that I shouldn't feel this way…it was so wrong of me, when Bruce was sleeping with a blissful smile on his face. It broke my heart to have these feelings.

I resolved to get through this day without running away. This was what was best for me. No matter how scared I was of the future, this was the best path for me.

Around 9:30 AM, Bruce stirred and opened his eyes groggily. He blinked a couple times, adjusting to the sunlight, and looked over at me, "Up already?"

"I had a hard time sleeping." I admitted.

"Bad dreams?" he propped himself up against his pillow.

"Yeah," I said vaguely.

"About your parents again? Your sister?" he asked.

"No…more so about this wedding." I turned my head to face his inquiring eyes.

"What about it?"

"I'm scared, Bruce." My eyes filled with tears, "I'm scared of what could happen today."

"Come here," he pulled me into his arms, "Nothing is going to happen, sweetheart. This day is going to go off without a hitch, and we can fly to the Bahamas tonight if you want. We can go anywhere you want to go…we'll just get away from here. I promise."

"That's reassuring; really it is, but…" I sighed, "The Joker…"

"Why are you so focused on him?" Bruce held me tighter, "He is a worthless ass-hole who doesn't deserve you thinking about him."

"I know he is." I had to smile a little at that, "However, he is a very dangerous ass-hole. He's out for your blood."

"He has been for a long time. You think it really scares me?" Bruce snorted indignantly, "I'd like to see him try."

"Well, I wouldn't." I said shortly, "We're taking a risk today. He could kill the both of us, for all we know."

"Come on, Harley, the man is on the run from the police. He's not going to come out of his hole just to get caught again. He's going to be a sitting duck if he comes here. I have security everywhere. If there's a breach, I will know about it immediately." Bruce said confidently.

I didn't respond. I wasn't as sure as he was that the Joker wouldn't get past all that security. I'd see him do a Houdini many times. It did sort of make me feel better that Bruce had prepared for this and was taking the situation seriously, but it wasn't enough.

"Are you getting cold feet?" Bruce asked, interrupting my thoughts.

"What? No." I shook my head vehemently, "No, no, not at all."

"Alright…just tell me if you don't want to go through with it right now. I want you to be honest with me, Harley. A marriage is a big step, and we haven't been together very long." He stroked my hair, "I just know that I love you, and if that's all you want for now, it is perfectly fine with me."

His words touched me. I didn't know how much he was willing to sacrifice for me, "Bruce, I love you, too. I want to go through with this wedding. I want to marry you. I just wish I could be happier. I wish I didn't have to be on alert through the entire thing, hoping that the Joker won't come out of nowhere and shoot my body full of bullets. It's a little nerve-wracking."

"I understand." He said sincerely, "I really do, babe, but let's not dwell on it. Today is going to be wonderful and magical and full of memories."

I giggled a little, "Alright, alright. I believe you."

"Good." He smiled, and kissed me gently, "Let's grab some breakfast and relax for a bit. The priest is going to be here at 7 PM sharp."

"Ok," I smiled at him half-heartedly in return. I didn't know what this day would bring, but my gut feeling was that it was certainly going to be memorable…but I didn't know in what way.

…

It was 6 PM. Bruce and I had some dinner, but neither of us seemed able to eat much. For Bruce, it was excitement; for me, anxiety. I knew that we were doing the wrong thing today. I knew it in my gut, but I had to keep pretending that it wasn't.

Alfred came to fetch me from the dinner table, my dress in his hands, "It is time to get dressed for the wedding, Miss Quinzel."

"Alright," I said, standing up shakily.

Bruce came over, and embraced me, "God, Harley, you're trembling. Are you alright?"

"Just nervous, that's all," I said, mustering a small smile.

"Don't worry about a thing. I'm here for you." Bruce said, kissing me gently, "Now, go get dressed so you can marry me."

I laughed a little at that, "Ok, ok, Mr. Wayne. I guess I can handle doing that."

"Good." He looked more confident, "I can't wait to see you."

I couldn't respond; I just kissed him again, and hurried off with Alfred.

…

As I was getting dressed, I couldn't shake away the feeling of dread that was creeping through my bones. I looked in the mirror, seeing myself for the first time; hair done, make-up done, shoes on…the only thing I couldn't hide was the look of pure terror in my eyes. I never believed all that women's intuition shit until right now.

I took a deep breath, exhaled sharply, still gasping a little. I could feel the tremors in my skin, in my blood. I opened the door to see Alfred standing there.

He smiled kindly, "You look very beautiful, Miss Quinzel."

"Thank you, Alfred."

He held out his arm to me, "I am to be your escort for this event."

"That's very sweet of you." I said, taking his arm.

"Anything for you and Master Wayne." He winked at me.

…

As we walked down the grand staircase in Wayne Manor, I felt like I was in dream, something totally surreal. I was really going to marry Bruce right now…I was going to be his wife. Should I have been more prepared emotionally for this? It's too late now to doubt myself and my intentions.

We crossed into the main living room, and I saw Bruce standing down the aisle, looking so excited, so utterly in awe of me. My eyes filled with tears, and I tried to blink them away, but some still flowed down my face without abandon.

I approached the altar, and Alfred released my hand while Bruce took it in return. He patted Alfred on the shoulder, and Alfred stepped away.

The priest was there, smiling at the both of us, "Shall I begin?"

Bruce nodded.

As the priest spoke, I was lost in my own little world. I knew right then and there that this was wrong. This was not what I wanted.

What can I say? It's possible that I had some sort of lapse in my judgment then. Or…well, many lapses in my judgment. I wanted desperately to be happy with Bruce, to live the life I'd always dreamed of. I looked over at him, smiling at me with all the love he possessed, and had a moment of clarity. I knew that my happiness didn't depend on him, and that I was living a lie. I had been living a lie all this time, and couldn't see it.

I was too blinded by my need to be normal, to be the extreme opposite of before. My life prior to the Joker had been predictable, unsatisfying, suffocating. I saw it, then. The Joker had been right all along about me. I wanted a life without limits, a life without all the constraints of society, a society that I had always felt marginalized by.

I kept the smile on my face, not wanting to alarm Bruce with my inner turmoil. I didn't want to hurt him, but I didn't want to be a shell of the person I had been for the rest of my life.

I did love Bruce. I knew it in my heart. Yet somehow, it wasn't enough. How could I break his heart now, especially at this moment? This was supposed to be a day of insurmountable bliss. I was supposed to be crying tears of joy, not tears of total and utter despair.

Suddenly, everything around me came to a deafening halt. The priest and Bruce were staring at me expectantly. I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. I was too busy gaping at the pool of blood surrounding the priest at his feet. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his lifeless form collapsed in a heap on the floor. The blood ran thick toward my dress. I jumped back, completely mortified, and Bruce grabbed onto my arm, steering me away from the scene.

"What's happening?" Bruce asked anxiously.

"Did I miss the part where I say, 'I object'?" a sneering, cold voice said from behind us.

Bruce grasped me tighter, protectively, and whispered, "Ok, well, maybe you were right. We shouldn't trust anyone."

"Told you so." I snapped furiously, "The priest was a pawn in his sick game."

"You know my modus operandi, Harley." The Joker grinned, "Such as astute young lady."

I glared at him venomously, "Kiss my astute, shit-head."

"Even feistier than before. I'm impressed." The Joker said, twirling the still-smoking pistol between his gloved fingers, "Just when I thought you were losing your touch."

"Why are you here?" Bruce demanded.

"Well, isn't it obvious, Wayne? I'm crashing your wedding." The Joker shrugged.

"I really suggest you get out of here before we both do something we are going to regret." Bruce said warningly.

"I'm not going anywhere. Not without Harley, at least." The Joker retorted.

They both turned to look at me. I was frozen, speechless. I had just watched someone get shot in front of me, ok? And on my wedding day, no less. It was what I expected from the Joker, making his dramatic entrance. What I hadn't been expecting was his cool demeanor, and…well, the fact that he wasn't potentially going to kill me and/or Bruce.

"What do you want with Harley?" Bruce's grip was so tight around me that I was gasping for air.

"Sorry," he whispered, loosening up slightly.

I exhaled deeply, "It's alright."

"Well, Wayne, you're even more empty-headed than I thought. I let you catch me. I let you put me in jail. It was all a part of the plan." The Joker circled us, like a vulture with its prey, "And you both fell for it. I'm surprised at you, Harley. You know me better than anyone else."

I felt Bruce stiffen beside me. The Joker knew his secret.

"I knew something was up all along." I spoke up, finally finding my voice, "Your bullshit doesn't fool me."

"It seemed to," he sneered, "You thought you were going to get a second chance, just like that?"

"I guess I did." I admitted, "How did you know that Bruce was Batman?"

"What kind of idiot do you take me for? It all makes perfect sense. You were working with the Batman, and then suddenly dating Bruce Wayne. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together. He has the means to all that technology. It speaks pretty poorly of Gotham that they turn a blind eye to it all." The Joker shrugged, "But what I can do?"

He looked at me and Bruce, who were both wide-eyed with fear.

"Don't worry, Wayne, I'm not going to go blab your secret. It's much more fun to watch you get beat up on." The Joker grinned with satisfaction.

"You're just a sick fuck." I said shortly, "I should have known you were going to play me like that. Why couldn't you just leave me alone?"

"Well, I hate to burst your perfect little bubble, Princess, but the world doesn't work like that." He said, glaring at me.

I was seething, "What did I tell you about that nickname, ass-hole?"

"What are you going to do about it?" he taunted me.

Bruce had to restrain me; I struggled against his strong arms (which normally I loved, but they were failing me at this moment), "I'll show you what I'm going to do about it!"

"Tsk, tsk," the Joker wagged a finger at me, "You need to keep a tighter leash on your bitch, Bruce."

"Oh, that's it!" Bruce released me, and much to the Joker's surprise, tackled him to the ground and began punching him hard in the face.

"You don't –" I heard the crack of the Joker's nose breaking, "Talk about –" Another painful crunch, "Her like that!"

I stood in horror as the two rolled on the ground, fighting, biting, scratching each other like animals. Finally, the Joker pushed Bruce away roughly, and hastily pulled out his gun.

"Bruce!" I cried, rushing forward.

The Joker pointed the gun at me, "One step closer, and I shoot him."

"You're bluffing." I said hesitantly.

"Try me." He snapped.

I didn't move an inch from that point, "What do you want?"

"You." He said simply.


	17. Your Time to Choose

**A/N: This is pretty much by far the most emotional chapter I have ever written. I pored a lot of my creative energies into this. I hope you like it.**

**I don't own DC Comics characters.**

Chapter 17: Your Time to Choose

_I was searching, you were on a mission_

_And our hearts combined like neutron star collision_

_I had nothing left to lose; you took your time to choose_

_Then we told each other without a trace of fear that_

_Our love would be forever; and if we die, we die together._

"_Neutron Star Collision (Love is Forever)," Muse _

I felt frozen in that moment, the world spinning around me in countless waves of emotion. What was I going to do? I had to make a choice. I had to make this impossible decision. Should I stay with Bruce? The safe way to go, the comfortable, the familiar. Or…I couldn't believe I was even considering it…with the Joker. The dangerous life on the run, the unknown, the exhilarating.

This life with Bruce, the one where I play a role and I will be screaming inside every day; the life of the perfect little wife that is just meant to pop out some children, make dinners (well, I guess Alfred was there for that purpose, but still…), drive a mini-van to the kids' baseball practice…living a lie. That wasn't me. That was never meant to be me. I was more than that. I was complicated, headstrong; the one thing I had never been in my life was impulsive.

I knew this decision would haunt me for the rest of my life. I was at the crossroads and didn't know which way to turn. I looked at Bruce, so sweet and unassuming, the person who could provide for me and make me feel special. I looked at the Joker, his harsh scars and slouched shoulders, the very epitome of bad decisions. His external appearance may have been terrifying, disarming; but I knew that deep down (and I mean WAY deep), there was that child who was abandoned and only wanted to be loved and cared for. Could I change him? No, no I couldn't. I wouldn't go on believing that was ever going to happen. He was too stubborn to change. But maybe, just maybe…

"Anyone in there?" the Joker waved a hand in front of my face.

I blinked, back to reality, and slapped the offending hand away, "I'm fine."

"Ok, she's back to normal." He smiled, but not in a malicious way. It was more of…of a fond look that anything else.

"I thought you'd suffered a stroke or something. Your face was so blank." Bruce said weakly, still doubled over in pain on the floor. He made a move to stand, but the Joker pointed the gun back at him.

"Stay down there, Wayne. There is nothing you can do right now to make your situation any better." He snapped, kicking Bruce sharply in the shin.

Bruce winced, agony in his eyes. I wanted so badly to go and hold him, but I couldn't. I literally just couldn't. My feet were glued to the floor; I was numb all over as I finally said, "Ok."

"What?" the Joker and Bruce asked at the same time, puzzled looks on both of their faces.

"I will go with you." I said softly.

"I'm sorry. Repeat that one more time for me." The Joker leaned forward expectantly.

"Don't make me say it again." I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to blink back the oncoming tears, "Please."

"Just one more time so we can hear you." The Joker insisted, jabbing the gun into Bruce's neck, near his jugular vein.

"I will go with you!" I cried, "Did you hear that? I will! Just don't hurt Bruce anymore!"

The Joker straightened up, pulling the gun away from Bruce slowly, "If that's what you want."

"Yes, it is." I stared him down. I just couldn't look at Bruce yet. I knew that if I saw the hurt in his eyes, I would break down completely.

"Get up, Wayne." The Joker said shortly, "The lady has chosen."

"You're such a fucking ass-hole." I shook my head, tears flowing freely down my face and putting little wet stains into the antique lace of my wedding gown, "How could you do this to me?"

"It was the only way I could get you back." The Joker replied with the most sincerity I had ever heard come out of his mouth, "Did you really think I was lying when I told you that I loved you?"

"No, but…honesty isn't exactly one of your strong points." I said, my mouth twitching upward slightly, a faint semblance of a smile.

I knew I was a cold, heartless bitch at that moment, smiling in the face of a devastating heart-break for Bruce. I was supposed to marry him not 15 minutes ago, and suddenly, I changed everything with 5simple little words. That's all you need to break a heart, I guess, to ruin a life. I wanted to feel something then, anything at all…but all I could think of was my freedom. Is that such an awful thing? It should be; it, very likely, is. I just knew that I had to do what was best for me, and had to drop my chains and go, as harsh as it sounds.

"Are we going to leave now?" the Joker asked impatiently.

"Give me a moment, you insensitive fuck." I retorted with my hands planted firmly on my hips.

"Fine, I get your subtle hint. I'll wait outside." The Joker left the room as abruptly as he'd come.

I rushed to Bruce's side, helping him up.

He pushed me away roughly, "Don't touch me."

I sighed deeply, "I understand why you're so angry."

"Angry doesn't even begin to describe what I'm feeling right now, Harley." Bruce wouldn't even look at me in the eye, "I never expected this from you."

"I didn't expect it from myself." I admitted, "But I told you that the Joker would stop this, whether we liked it or not. I wanted to be optimistic and think we could overcome it, but he would never let it be. We'd be on alert the rest of our lives, and put any future we had together in danger at all times. Did you really want that?"

"No," Bruce replied, "But I would have found some way to stop him, if you would give me the chance. Apparently, you want to be a criminal. You want to be like him."

"Something has drawn us together, Bruce. I don't understand it, he doesn't understand it, but it's there. I was never meant to be with you. His showing up here today proved that to me. We are lucky that he didn't kill us both." I said, wiping fiercely at my eyes, "I still care about you."

"I loved you, and you've ruined everything that we worked so hard for!" Bruce shouted, color rising in his face, "You don't want anything to work! You let things die! I'm never going to forgive you for what you've done to me!"

"I understand." I said quietly.

"Good. You are a self-destructive bitch, Harley, and I hope you can change someday. I'm not going to go after you, but I will make you this promise: I will kill the Joker. I will do it. I want him to suffer more than anyone on this earth has ever suffered. I want him dead!" he was seething. He turned away from me for a moment, taking a couple of deep breaths.

He looked back at me. I was still speechless at his rage.

Bruce averted his eyes, closing them in anguish, and then finally he said, "I will give you a day's head start. That's all I can do for you, Harley. Get out of here before I change my mind."

I opened my mouth to speak, but he snapped, "You don't get to say anything right now. Go! Get out of here NOW!"

I turned on my heel swiftly and ran for the door. I stopped for a moment, lingering in the doorway, staring at Bruce's back, hunched over. He fell to his knees, and I heard him let out an agonized cry, pounding his fists on the floor.

I put a hand to my mouth, trying to hide my own grief, and ran from the room. I couldn't even see; my eyes were blinded by my tears.

I somehow made it to the front door, and halted there. I had to get it together. I couldn't let the Joker see how utterly upset I was about this. I glanced back at Wayne Manor. It had been my home for a while, and I felt a twinge at my heart, knowing that I would never step foot in it again.

I inhaled, exhaled a few times, trying to stop my heaving sobs. Finally, I was able to breathe normally. I felt a little light-headed from all of these emotions. I had to be strong now. I was done being that weak little girl.

I stepped outside, and saw the Joker waiting at the gated entrance to Wayne Manor.

I took another deep breath, and ran to him, throwing off my veil, tearing the lace sleeves of the wedding gown, letting my arms feel the open air.

When I approached him, he smiled at me, "Have I mentioned that dress is hideous?"

"Shut up." I rolled my eyes, "Let's just go."

As we were walking, I turned my head to face him, "You'd better me make me believe I made the right decision today."

"Oh, I will, Princess, I will."


	18. A Different Path

Chapter 18: A Different Path

_Then it turned out to only be a dream_

_I made a point to burn all of our photographs_

_She went away and then I took a different path_

_I remember the face but I can't recall the name_

"_Whatsername," Green Day_

No one truly knows what the future will bring us, I guess. We can only just pretend that we know, and attribute it to God or some higher power. We say that it's our fate, that it's our destiny to be the way we are. But we do that to hide the truth: which is, really, the fact that we decide our own fate. There is no divine intervention. We make our choices, and the consequences are too hard to deal with, so we blame God or that unnamed higher power, saying that they wanted us to be this way. They want us to be miserable. As human beings, we can only pick ourselves up, deal with the mess we've made, and keep walking. We wipe our tears, bandage our wounds, and keep walking.

I'm not proud of the choices I have made in my life. I look back and every day, and I know that I'm not at peace. I've made mistakes. I've picked myself up and kept going. I thought my choices were going to make me happy. I did the opposite of what I had done before, hoping for a different outcome. Now I guess I chose a different path for my life. I am going down a road that I didn't want to go, but at this point, it's what I have chosen. I can't promise myself that it was the right decision or the wrong decision as of now, but I know that my life is going to be forever altered.

I look to him, and see the expectant look in his eyes. I know that I will be so unhappy under his gaze, but yet I can't look away. I can't stand to be who he wants, but something inside me pulls me toward him, no matter what I do. I had to succumb. I had to end both of our suffering, even if it meant hurting others in the process.

Where do I go from here? Who knows? I can't say that I know or that I care. Will I ever be happy again? I doubted it now, but maybe someday, I will be. I look in his eyes, and know that deep down he loves me and wants the best of me. Hopefully, I will live up to his vision of me.

Sometimes, we just have to let fate decide.

And fate has decided that I am forever his, that I am forever…Harley Quinn.

_See her, you'll never free her_

_You must surrender it all_

_If you'd like to meet again_

THE END

If you would like to continue on to Part IV, please check it out:

.net/s/6388678/1/Mad_Love_Series_Part_IV_Like_Vines


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